


Harry Lupin Potter and the Nature of Evil

by RoleplayFanfics



Series: Son of a Werewolf - A Harry Potter reimagining [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Changes to the canon, Character Development, Crabbe and Goyle with actual character development, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Dumbledore is a schemer, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Harry Lupin - Freeform, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry pov, History Lessons, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, LGBTQ+ fiction, More Neville for the people, Muggle History, Not Canon Compliant, Occassional Remus POV, POV Harry, POV Harry Potter, Parody, Queer Themes, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter, Snakes don't blink Rowling, actions have consequences, history revision, lore changes, major story changes, queer fiction, revising history, revising lore, rewriting harry potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 121,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoleplayFanfics/pseuds/RoleplayFanfics
Summary: “I don’t understand it…” Remus Lupin spoke to his owl, staring at the ruffled bird who seemed more than a little annoyed. The werewolf had tried to pet him, but the owl had given an angry shriek at him, and flew past him into his cage, turning his back to the man. “Every time you return you look like you have been in a fight… Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” He sighed, looking after the angry Agrippa as the bird refused to face him.Harry Lupin Potter had been sending his friends letters all summer, but despite this, he hadn’t gotten a single one in return. Even the letters which Harry had sent by Muggle post to his Muggle-born friend hadn’t been answered.--Second book in a fanfic series. Harry has been raised with love and care by Remus Lupin, resulting in major changes in the Harry Potter book series.
Series: Son of a Werewolf - A Harry Potter reimagining [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854529
Comments: 68
Kudos: 152





	1. Prologue - in which Remus Lupin almost attacks an uninvited visitor

**Author's Note:**

> The second installment of our reimagining of the Harry Potter series is now finished.  
> In the end, it ended up longer than the actual book and writing it has been both a joy and absolute pain. It has been harder to apply logic to matters in the canon of this book in particular which go against basic societal structures and the series' own logic. 
> 
> Thank you for the kind comments and support of the first work! ♡
> 
> Series order:  
> Harry Lupin Potter and the Path to Self Worth  
> Harry Lupin Potter and the Nature of Evil  
>  _More to follow_
> 
> \---  
> This work is a reimagining of the Harry Potter series, and is written purely without profit, claiming no ownership of content originating from J.K.Rowling’s book series.
> 
> That being said, this reimagining focuses strongly on the importance of identity and one’s right to their own identity and person. Even more so to be in charge of one’s own identity. The series further explores sound logic, humane approaches and will make changes to the world of Harry Potter in attempts to add logic and reason to concepts which the audience may know differently.
> 
> You may find yourself disagreeing with changes and portrayals of the work, and the characters; if you find that this work is not suitable for your tastes, thank you for checking it out. This work will deviate from the canon, both in past and present story points. No excessive commentary is going to result in changes of the plot-line and character portrayals after audience preferences unless deemed absolutely necessary by the fanfiction authors.
> 
> We hope you find joy and potentially even comfort and reassurance in this work!
> 
> Written by Teddy.  
> Edited and co-written by Nathan.  
> Revised lore by Nathan.
> 
> Do not copy this work onto other pages without proper crediting of the both of us, including our AO3 account.

“I don’t understand it…” Remus Lupin spoke to his owl, staring at the ruffled bird, who seemed more than a little annoyed. The werewolf had tried to pet him, but the owl had shrieked angrily at him, and flew past him into his cage, turning his back to the man. “Every time you return you look like you have been in a fight… Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” He sighed, looking after the angry Agrippa, as the bird refused to face him. 

Harry Lupin Potter had been sending his friends letters all summer, but despite this, he hadn’t gotten a single one in return. Even the letters which Harry had sent by Muggle post to his Muggle-born friend hadn’t been answered. Not to mention that Remus’ owl had returned looking more and more ruffled, which less and less time passed between setting out and coming back. Remus was starting to suspect that the owl wasn’t actually able to deliver the letters in the first place, since he hadn’t been gone long enough to actually deliver them. His son tried to keep his spirits up, but it was clear that he was rather bothered by the lack of communication with his friends. 

The werewolf glanced towards the clock while absentmindedly scratching his ear with one hand. It was a full moon that night, and Remus was already feeling the effects come upon him. He was more irritated than he usually was, his body felt far too hot, as if the blood in his veins was slowly heated up to unbearable temperatures. His fingertips were itching, as if he had claws underneath which just wanted to push through his skin and be freed from the restraint of the human shape. His face was itching as well, as if all the old scars were but painful restrains keeping him from being free. 

Everything seemed too bright, too loud and too much. He tried his best to keep himself completely under control, and to not let it show at all, even though he knew that his son had no problems with or blamed him for the way he was on the night of a full moon. Still, Remus liked to stay away from Harry during that night, and the boy respected his wishes. The werewolf’s only regret was that today was Harry’s birthday, and he wanted to celebrate it better than to be antsy all day. 

The time had passed to six o’clock, Remus judged that he should take the Lycanthropy potion by then, as to ease the itching in his body. It was already prepared for him, all he needed to do was drink it. Thus, he got it from the basement and drank it in the kitchen, making a displeased face over the taste. 

He placed the potion bottle down in the sink, deciding to clean it later. As he did, he couldn’t help but think of the man who had designed the potion, the man who made it possible for him to raise his son in the first place. He couldn’t help but to think about Severus Snape.

Remus had hoped to meet Severus again when he came to Hogwarts, after hearing that his son had been in a battle with a possessed wizard and the Dark Lord. It had been far from the first thing on his mind, but the idea of seeing the man once more had made Remus’ heart beat faster, even when his mind had focused on the safety of his child. He hadn’t expected that Severus would want to meet him personally, but as the Head of the Slytherin House, Remus has assumed that he would have come to speak to him about Harry, as the boy was technically Severus’ ward. 

It was strange to think of entrusting his son to the man, but in a sense where it felt almost natural. The Severus he had known felt like someone more than capable of growing up to become reliable, and a part of Remus wanted to trust the man. Even Severus had seemed very different from what he imagined, and even if he had committed an error against his son in disrespecting his identity, it was still a fact that it had improved remarkably. Harry’s letters over the last year at Hogwarts had continued to speak of various times and ways in which Severus seemed to be of assistance, and in a strange distant sense a safety and comfort. Indeed, his son seemed very eager in reporting anything of interest regarding the man back to Remus. It was a little embarrassing, but also very encouraging to hear how the Potions Professor was clearly being more and more of a comfort and safety to his son, and never again disrespected him. 

Still, the man had not come that time at Hogwarts, and Remus hadn’t been able to figure out what he wanted to say to him even if he would have.

The werewolf leaned against the sink, absently pushing the potion bottle around as the potion itself soothed his itching, burning skin. He had tried to write to the Potions Master once again, as his first and last letter had been very harsh and not really open for communication, but he had ended up in a complete standstill, where no words he could formulate made sense enough to send to the man. 

The werewolf sighed, leaning forward to press his buzzing head against the cold surface next to the sink. It felt soothing. 

As he stood there, an unfamiliar scent hit him, alongside the sound of a window opening and closing. The werewolf straightened up and spun around. Like a guard dog, he had caught the scent of an unwelcome intruder. He sniffed the air, searching for a location where the scent was coming from. Remus felt his heart drop with fear as he realised that the scent seemed to be coming from his son’s room. 

Without thinking about it, he began to run, rushing towards Harry’s room and threw the door open with a growl, ready to throw himself over whoever or whatever had dared to intrude into his and Harry’s home. 

Inside his son’s room, the first thing he spotted was the unwelcome guest. It proved to be a small, trembling House Elf with giant green eyes. Remus almost threw himself over the little creature but it screamed and ran into a corner. The werewolf made to chase after it but Harry placed himself in between the two, making his growling father halt in his steps before he could get his claws into the House Elf. 

“Werewolf! Werewolf!” The creature screeched, making Remus’ head and ears hurt. “Harry Potter is being attacked by a werewolf!”

“I’m not!” Harry yelled back, holding his dad back from trying to shut the House Elf up with his bare hands. “This is my dad, and you’re the one intruding here. Of course he would be bothered when you break into the house like that. Dad! Dad, can you hear me?” He turned towards the werewolf. “It’s okay, he doesn’t want to hurt us, You can calm down.”

Remus heard his son as if through water. It was very hard to focus on what the words meant, especially since the creature in the corner continued to yell very loudly. However, Harry slowly managed to get through to his human mind, helping Remus return to his own senses and not the instincts of the beast. 

“Dad…?” Harry tried again, and then Remus nodded, he smiled at him and patted his arm. “This is… uh, Dobby. He just came in through the window, he apparently has something important to tell me. About not returning to Hogwarts.” 

“Werewolf! Werewolf!” Howled the creature, it had curled together completely in the corner, shaking like a frightened mouse. “The good, good Harry Potter has been raised by such a dangerous creature. Dobby thinks that is bad! Bad, bad, bad. Oh poor, poor, Harry Potter.”

Remus sighed, chewing on his lower lip as he studied the small House Elf. “I… I’m sorry for coming into your room like this. That seems to be a House Elf, they only hurt mages in extreme circumstances, so it should be comparatively safe. Uhn.. by Merlin, is it loud...” The werewolf wanted to cover his ears, but he also wanted to make the creature be silent. 

“You can wait outside, dad. I think I can handle this… uh, situation. Come back in if I scream, but I don’t think that he has come to hurt me.” Harry carefully pushed his dad towards the door. 

“Full moon, full moon! Oh, Harry Potter will be locked in a house with a werewolf during a full moon! Evil, evil werewolf!” 

As Harry pushed his dad out and closed the door behind him, the last thing Remus saw was Harry’s eye twitch with anger as the House Elf was continuously assaulting his beloved dad with accusations of being bad and evil. The son of a werewolf looked very close to shutting the creature up by shoving a sock down his throat. 

“I’ll tell you everything later dad, have some chocolate and come back, I’ll be… fine.” He spoke the last words through clenched teeth. This was clearly not Harry’s ideal of a birthday, but he was set to deal with the problem. 


	2. Chapter 1 - In which Dobby screams some more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dangerous, evil, dark magic!” 
> 
> “Alright now you listen here you…” Harry managed to stop himself from screaming at the clearly abused creature, instead stopped and then tried again. “Dobby, right?” The creature nodded. “I need you to stop screaming those things about my dad. How would you feel if someone called you all those horrible things based on something you cannot help?”

“Evil! Poor, poor Harry Potter!” 

“Now you listen here.” Harry walked up to the House Elf and knelt by him, grabbing his arms to keep him still but taking care to not do it roughly or too harshly. The creature trembled and turned its head away as big tears rolled down his cheeks. At least Harry thought it was a he. “There is nothing poor about me, and I am not Harry Potter. My name is Harry Lupin and I don’t care about your feelings on the matter of what happened when I was a baby, either you start showing me and my dad some respect or I swear by Merlin I will put you outside my window and lock you out, do you hear me?” It took every bit of self control to not try and be violent or too harsh with the creature.

Said creature sniffed. “Harry Potter will not punish Dobby?” 

“Harry Potter is a name on a paper, and it’s not mine. Call me Lupin or I’ll remove you from my room.” Harry growled, sounding a lot like his dad had a few minutes ago, where he sat on his knees, holding the creature down as to not have it hurt itself like it had threatened to do earlier. “And no, I will not hurt you, just please stop screaming.” 

The House Elf whimpered, looking like he wanted to cry from happiness. “Harry Potter Lupin is good.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” Harry sighed, slowly letting go of the other’s arms. “Now, before dad came inside y-” he was interrupted by the House Elf’s whining. 

“Dangerous, evil, dark magic!” 

“Alright now you listen here you…” Harry managed to stop himself from screaming at the clearly abused creature, instead stopped and then tried again. “Dobby, right?” The creature nodded. “I need you to stop screaming those things about my dad. How would you feel if someone called you all those horrible things based on something you cannot help?”

“Master calls Dobby horrible things all the time.” Dobby grabbed his ears and whimpered. 

“And does that make you feel happy?” 

“No, no, it makes Dobby sad. Sometimes he cries himself to sleep, thinking of all the unkind things his Master and family tells him…” The big, green eyes filled with tears as the creature whimpered. Harry looked around for a tissue and gave it to the creature, who thankfully blew his nose. 

“My dad has feelings too. A lot of people will say bad things about him, and it really hurts him. Today is a very harsh day for him, where most people would try to hurt him if they knew about his predicament. So it’s very important to me that you don’t yell mean things about him, as they aren’t true.” Harry explained. 

“But today is Harry Potter Lupin’s birthday!” The creature objected. “And his father can’t even celebrate with him! And no friends to tell him happy birthday.” He shook his head so violently that Harry was worried that he’d fall over. He carefully grabbed the creature and lead him to a chair so that Dobby could sit down. 

“Celebrations can be held any time, we did that yesterday. It really doesn’t matter to me when we celebrate my birthday.” Harry sighed, like a parent having to explain something to a child which should be obvious. “As for my fri- hold on.” His gaze turned sharp as he looked at the creature. “How do you know that my friends haven’t sent me any letters?” 

The House Elf whimpered and hid behind his hands. Harry noticed that there were small wounds on his fingers, as if someone had hurt him by slamming a door shut on his hands. The creature really was abused… Despite everything Dobby did which made Harry want to shut him up with force, it was clear that the creature didn’t seem to do things out of malice. Threatening him or hurting him would likely only make it worse. 

“Dobby thought that Harry Potter Lupin wouldn’t want to return to Hogwarts if he thought that all his friends had forgotten him.” Out from his clothing, which Harry only now identified as a pillowcase, Dobby pulled a collection of letters. How he was able to hide that many letters in one pillowcase without it being visible on the outside, Harry simply couldn’t understand. 

The son of a werewolf took a deep breath, trying very hard to not let his anger show. “Give me my letters, Dobby.” He held out his hand for them, which the House Elf took as a frightening gesture. 

“NO!” He screamed, only to jump off the chair he was sitting on and crawling in under it, then he ran off and hid under the bed. “No, Harry Potter musn’t return to Hogwarts!” 

“Dobby…” Harry breathed in and out slowly. “I’m not going to take them from you with force, would you please come out so that I can talk to you?” He bent down to look under the bed, finding the big, teary green eyes stare at him. Dobby had curled up, hugging the letters like they were the only thing in the world which could save him from… something. 

“There is a plot!” The creature hugged the letters closer. “A plot to kill Harry Potter.”

“Lupin. Harry Lupin.”

“A plot to kill Harry Potter Lupin!” 

Harry rubbed his left temple, counting to five slowly in his head. “And what is this plot? Who is trying to kill me?” 

“Dark mages! Evil magic is at work at Hogwarts, they seek to kill you, the symbol of hope for all oppressed creatures and people!” Dobby was still screaming, despite what he was saying being important, and clearly valuable, it was very hard to stand him. “Harry Potter Lupin musn’t die. You’d be safer if you didn’t go back.” 

“While I’d love to stay with my dad for another year and not have to study,” Harry joked, smiling kindly at the House Elf. “I really can’t not go back. But if you tell me more, I would be all the more safe, wouldn’t I?” 

“Dobby knew Harry Potter Lupin wouldn’t understand. No, no, he doesn’t understand. He will not be safe. Dobby wants to tell, but Master has forbidden Dobby from telling anyone about it in detail. Dobby will already have to hurt his ears in the oven when he gets home for coming to Harry Potter Lupin.” He hid behind the letters, like a child might hide in a pillow, once more sobbing. 

“What if I talk to Professor Dumbledore about it?” Harry tried. “My dad has contact with him, I’m sure that if anyone could help make the school safe, it would be Professor Dumbledore, don’t you think?” 

The House Elf slowly came crawling towards the edge of the bed, peeking out and up at Harry. “Can that wizard be trusted? Dobby knows that he has turned his back on his fellow mages before, how could Dobby trust him to protect Harry Potter Lupin this time?” 

“I’m not quite certain what you mean, but yes, he is a very powerful wizard, and a good man. I think that you can trust him in letting him know.” Harry held out his hand, helping Dobby to his feet. “Can you at least try? He can do far more than I can, and if something really is happening at Hogwarts, wouldn’t other students risk getting hurt as well?” He proceeded to ask carefully. “I’m really not that special, and I’d very much like to keep my fellow students protected.” 

“So clever, so clever, Harry Potter Lupin…” Dobby sniffed, nodding his head. “But Master has forbidden Dobby to speak to anyone working at Hogwarts.” 

“Then how about you speak to my dad, and he writes a letter to Professor Dumbledore? I’m sure he can even leave out your name if your Master would hurt you for it.” The green eyed boy handed the creature another tissue for it to dry its eyes with.

“But… But Harry Potter Lupin’s father is-”

“A good man with an unfortunate condition.” Harry corrected him before the House Elf could insult his dad again. 

“He tried to attack Dobby!” The creature whimpered. 

“He thought that you were attacking me.” 

The House Elf looked shocked. “Dobby would never hurt Harry Potter Lupin! Never!” 

“But my dad wouldn’t know that, and you scared him. He didn’t try to hurt you because he is evil, but because he tried to defend me.” Patiently, Harry explained to the abused creature why his dad had reacted like he had. “Say, Dobby, there is still some food left from our dinner, would you want to eat some? You, me and dad can sit down and talk, and you will learn that my dad is very kind. Then you can make up your mind about trusting him, after you have gotten to know him?” 

“Harry Potter Lupin would let Dobby eat with him? Harry Potter Lupin would grant Dobby the honor of dining in the same room as him?” Dobby had started crying once more. At this point, Harry was worried that the House Elf would actually cry so much that he fainted from the exhaustion. 

“Yes? I’m pretty sure you can have some cake too. But remember to be nice to my dad, this is a very stressful night for him, and you aren’t allowed to stress him up further. So please, no more loud crying, and no more screaming.” Harry demanded, causing the creature to nod furiously. 

Harry got to his feet and walked towards the door, opening it to let Dobby out. They found Remus in the kitchen, looking stressed, but no longer angry or threatening. He stepped forward, causing Dobby to hide behind Harry. When Remus saw the reaction, he halted himself and took a step back. 

“Is… everything alright, Harry?” His dad asked, looking his son over rather than caring about the frightened creature. 

“Yes. Dad, this is Dobby. He happens to be very hungry and I think there is some food left. Could we feed him?” Harry pulled out a chair for Dobby, who looked like he was in utter disbelief upon climbing up on it, sitting by the table like a normal person, rather than eating on the floor or in a scrub. 

“I… Yes, uh… of course…” Remus trusted in the look his son gave him, and began heating up some of their leftovers for the House Elf. He gave him a normal sized portion despite the other’s size. Dobby tried his hardest not to cry as he ate the food. 

Harry heated up some water to make tea for his dad, allowing Remus to carefully talk to the House Elf. Their talk went comparatively well, where the creature only tried to hurt itself a few times, where both Lupins quickly moved in to stop him. By eight o’clock, Dobby had managed to tell Remus a lot of what he had told Harry, and it had been agreed that the werewolf would write to Professor Dumbledore and warn him of the danger. Harry asked once more if he could have his letters back, and when Dobby carefully handed them over with shaking hands, Harry rewarded him with a piece of birthday cake which they had planned on saving for the next day. Dobby probably needed it more, Harry reasoned. 

“I truly have to head down into the basement now.” Remus carefully rose from the table. “You can leave the dishes in the sink, I will take care of them tomorrow. Send Dobby home, Harry. I will see you tomorrow.” He bent down to give him a hug, which Harry returned. He could feel his father subtly twist and shake, his body being far warmer than it should naturally be. Harry could also see on his face that he seemed to have a hard time controlling the instincts of the beast, as his expressions seemed to turn distinctively less human in nature. 

“Sleep well, dad.” Harry waved him off as his dad walked to the basement door. As he heard the lock turn, Harry stood and gathered Dobby’s dishes. 

“Harry Potter Lupin was right… His dad is not a bad werewolf, but a good one.” Dobby tried to help Harry with removing the dishes but the boy shook his head, telling the elf to remain seated. “But Dobby wants to help…” 

“It would help me if you return home safely, and don’t hurt yourself anymore for my or my dad’s sake.” Harry smiled down at him. “And, if it so would happen that you find yourself in a situation where your Master would ask about my dad, please tell him that he is a normal wizard. If anyone figured out that my dad is a werewolf he would be excluded from the Wizarding World even more than he already is. I’d hate to see that happen.” 

“Dobby will cut his own tongue out before he will let his Master know about Harry Potter Lupin’s dad!” The creature announced. 

“That’s not really…” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud, long howl, coming from the basement. It was a howl Harry knew well, but it clearly startled Dobby. 

“I think you should leave now.” Harry told the House Elf, who looked very bothered by the idea of leaving Harry alone in the house with a werewolf. The green eyed boy sighed. “I’m alone with him like this once every month, and I have been for about eleven years now. There is nothing to worry about, he is in control of his mind. I could go down there and give him a hug right now if I wanted to, and he’d not try to hurt me in the least. However, he doesn’t want me to see him like that, and I respect his wishes, thus staying away.” 

“But…” Dobby whined. 

“No, there is no but.” Harry looked sternly at the other, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Forgive me for being honest, but we met for the first time today, you have no right to tell me that my dad is a danger to me when he is not. You have no right to come and try to change our way of life because you personally think that it’s wrong or frightening to you. I won’t accept you talking about things you don’t know anything about and expect me to care in the least. Now, please be off. I think you being here alone with me is upsetting my dad.” 

The House Elf looked into Harry’s eyes, and then nodded slowly. “Harry Potter Lupin… Be careful. You should still stay away from Hogwarts this year, but Dobby can tell that he won’t listen to Dobby…” He sighed heavily. “Thank you for everything. Please don’t get hurt.” 

“I’ll try my best to stay safe.” 

“Goodbye Harry Potter Lupin.” 

“Goodbye Dobby.” 

The House Elf smiled and disappeared with a subtle noise which made Harry’s ears throb, like the air where Dobby had just stood had popped. Harry stopped by the basement door, and called through it. 

“Good night, dad, I’m going to bed.” 

A whimper and a howl was returned to him. Harry smiled to himself and stepped back from the door, choosing to believe that his dad had tried to tell him goodnight in return. 


	3. Chapter 2 - In which Gilderoy Lockhart meets his equal in fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you remember that book about werewolves which said that they can be transformed back by a single spell?” Harry was still staring at the list of books with a look of disbelief on his face. 
> 
> “I do.” Remus groaned. “I didn’t need that reminder first thing in the morning… Why are you reminding me?” He rested his head in his hand, absently playing with the spoon his tea. 
> 
> “Apparently Gilderoy Lockheart’s book is… on this year's course literature.” Harry’s expression had twisted into one of distaste. “Four of his books, actually…Well, one is a collection of three other books, so technically two.” 
> 
> “...You are not serious… Are you…”

Harry had a lot of letters to write. Blaise, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Neville and Granger had all written multiple letters to him, and it took a while to read them all. He wrote together an excuse to everyone, telling them that something had gone very wrong with the mail delivery and that he only got their letters now. He would try to explain it all when they met in person, but for now, he hoped that they could forgive his silence as it had been. 

After Dobby left that day, it seemed that there was no problem with the letters anymore. He got his letters from his friends, and the one about what books and equipment to bring for the year from Hogwarts. 

It was morning as Harry went to get _The Daily Prophet_ from Agrippa, finding that his letter from the school had arrived as well. He opened it before he returned to the kitchen, carrying the newspaper under his arm. Harry frowned as he read through the long list of books.

“Dad…” Harry entered the kitchen, where his dad sat with a cup of tea, staring out into space as many do in the morning. He had a sandwich before him, but hadn’t touched it yet, while Harry had at least begun eating his. 

“Mmm?” Remus looked up, accepting the newspaper as it was held out to him. 

“Do you remember that book about werewolves which said that they can be transformed back by a single spell?” Harry was still staring at the list of books with a look of disbelief on his face. 

“I do.” Remus groaned. “I didn’t need that reminder first thing in the morning… Why are you reminding me?” He rested his head in his hand, absently playing with the spoon his tea. 

“Apparently Gilderoy Lockheart’s book is… on this year's course literature.” Harry’s expression had twisted into one of distaste. “Four of his books, actually…Well, one is a collection of three other books, so technically two.” 

“...You are not serious… Are you…” Remus looked at his son with a look of pain. He held out his hand, and Harry handed the list of books over to him. Remus read it in silence. “These are… Why would… Course literature? This absolute garbage?” It seemed his dad couldn’t even express his disappointment in what he was seeing. 

“Why would we need someone’s autobiography as course literature?” Harry frowned as he picked his sandwich up, taking another bite out of it. 

“ _Magical me_ , _The Travel Trilogy_ , collection of _Holiday with Hags, Voyages with Vampires_ and _Wandering with Werewolves_ …” Remus read. “I don’t think you will learn about werewolves until your third year, so even if this book wasn’t garbage, it still shouldn’t be on a second year student’s list.” He sighed. “These books are also rather new, the Lockhart is apparently very popular right now, so his books won’t be that cheap either. It’s… so very strange a choice for student literature, I’m at a loss for words.” 

“Do you need any help with money? I don’t mind using some of that money to pay for my own literature.” Harry suggested referring to the money left from his biological mom and dad. 

“It’s not a problem.” Remus assured him, handing the list back. “But thank you for offering. Besides, you wouldn’t really want to spend your own money on something like those books.” He picked his teacup up and had a sip. 

“I don’t know about that.” Harry took one more bite out of his breakfast. “If I had paid for it, nothing would stop me from burning the abomination. I’d be guilt free of my book murder.” 

Harry and Remus Lupin quickly found that this day was not a normal Tuesday at Diagon Alley. They usually went on Tuesdays to try and avoid crowds but upon stepping into the crowded bookstore by the name of Flourish and Blotts, they discovered that this particular Tuesday hosted a special book signing event. One held by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, the author of _Wandering with Werewolves_. 

Harry noticed right away how stressed the noise and the people made his dad. Remus had a hard time dealing with people outside of a crowded store, being inside one was beyond what he was capable of handling so soon after a full moon. Still, all the books from Lockharts were over by his signing table and behind it, meaning that there was no way to actually get to the books that didn’t involve standing in the long line to that table. 

“Dad.” Harry grabbed his hand to help his dad calm down. He noticed that the man flinched slightly in return, thus making it very easy to tell that he was badly off already. “I can handle the purchase, you can go wait outside.” 

“I shouldn’t…” Remus responded, glancing around in the store as if looking for some place where he could hide away from the noise. There was no such place, of course. 

“I’ve bought things for us before, I can handle it.” Harry held out his hand for his dad’s wallet. Remus looked a little ashamed again, but then gave in and handed it to Harry. Harry counted the money and took out enough Gallons so that he might be able to pay for his literature, before he handed the wallet back. He slipped the coins into his own purse, which he wasn’t about to let go of for a second in such a crowded place. When his dad was this uncomfortable and stressed, Harry knew that it was hard for him to count, so he had of course counted the money so that his dad didn’t have to. 

“Are you sure you will be alright?” His dad asked carefully, looking very guilty over leaving his son to buy his books alone. 

“I’ll be fine.” Harry was scanning the crowd, and spotted a familiar figure with blonde hair and a body language which screamed unimpressed. “I can actually see Malfoy, I’ll go stand with him.” 

“Well then…” Remus nodded. “I will be waiting outside the store, somewhere a little less crowded. 

“See you later.” The two separated, and Harry walked over to Malfoy, managing to slide in next to him without upsetting too many waiting mages. “Hi, Malfoy.” 

The blonde boy jumped, turning towards him with a startled expression on his face. “Slytherin’s snake! Where did you come from, are you trying to frighten me to death?” Malfoy gasped, shaking his head as Harry stepped closer to give him a hug. He could feel the other boy’s heart race as it was returned. “One letter all summer and then you just appear out of nowhere like this…? Ugh.” He rolled his eyes, clearly displeased. 

“I’m really sorry about the letters.” Harry let go of him. “It seems someone has been stealing my letters all summer, but they finally came clean about it and returned the letters.” He leaned in to whisper. “I’ll tell you more in a safe environment.” 

Malfoy nodded, following the line as it moved forward. “I suppose I will forgive you. Since you weren’t answering, I didn’t want to send your birthday present by mail so, well, happy late birthday, you will get your present when school starts.” 

“Thank you. It seems to be completely safe to send me letters now though. I’m not saying I want the present now, but I thought I should let you know.” Harry explained, causing Malfoy to nod. “So what are you doing here?” 

“Queing for books, like everyone else.” The blonde sighed. “Father had a few errands to run, and figured we could get my books for school at the same time. Now he is off on those errands and I’m stuck here waiting for a chance to nab the books I need and leave. How come you are here, did you know about the signing?” 

“Not at all, it’s a complete coincidence that we are here today. Tuesdays are usually calm. My dad doesn’t do well in crowds so he is waiting outside.” Harry summarised, glancing around at the line to see how close they were. “I was hoping to be able to get that trilogy book to save some money, I don’t want to risk it being sold out and having to buy thee whole books.” 

“My father can afford either or, I just want it done with.” Malfoy sighed, absently playing with his snake cufflinks which Harry had gotten him last year. Harry had noticed that Malfoy very seldom took them off, even if he sometimes wore fancier ones, he always seemed to return to his snake set. “Seeing as I haven’t received any letters from you, you might as well tell me in person, how has your summer been?” 

Harry summarised his summer without mentioning Dobby or what the House Elf had said, before he returned the question. In turn, it seemed Malfoy had been outside of the country, where his father had taken him to see a Quidditch game in France. He wasn’t talking about the country so much as he was about the game he had seen, and how great fliers the players were. He got completely lost in talking about Quidditch, making the line pass all the faster as Harry listened to him. 

“This year, there isn’t anything keeping me from joining the Slytherin team as their Seeker.” The blonde boy finished. “I am finally allowed to bring my broom with me to school, I can’t wait to finally be part of the Quidditch world.” 

“Next, please.” 

Harry and Malfoy found themselves at the front of the line, face to face with the famous man himself. Gilderoy Lockhart was a smiling mouth with some possible other facial features and a lot of golden hair. His grin was so white that it was hard to make out anything else about him. He was sitting among his books, his autobiography was smiling along with him on both sides of him, grinning and winking like they owned the entire bookstore. 

“Boys, how delightful, have you come to get some books signed for your mothers?” The man was already opening a book, signing his name in big letters. “What good sons you are, who should I dictate the signatures to?” He looked up at Harry once more, winking at him. The gesture was mimicked by his books. All of them which had his face on it winked at once. It was very eerie. 

“Uh, we’re Hogwarts students, we just wanted to get our course literature.” Harry stuttered out, completely overwhelmed by the way the blonde smile stared into his eyes with nothing held back. 

“Indeed, my students!” The man chirped, and wrote down a signature which Harry read upside down as ‘my snakes.’ That probably wasn’t right. It more likely said ‘students’ than ‘snakes.’

“Your… what?” Malfoy suddenly looked like he had bitten down on a sour piece of candy, his face expression both confused and loathing at the same time. Lockhart pretended that he didn’t see the boy’s look of disgust. 

“Ladies, gentlemen and other fine folks! Mages gathered here today!” Lockhart suddenly belted, standing up and sweeping out with his arms as an almost childish excitement came over his face. As he swept out with his arms, the wind from his clothing caused Harry’s and Malfoy’s hair to fly out of order respectively. Unbeknownst to Harry, this meant that his scar was now completely visible to the world. “I have the great honor and pleasure of announcing that I will henceforth be a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I shall be serving as the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, starting this very term! Now some of you may already know that based on your children’s student literature, so let me make it clear, it is t-” his eyes had swept over the crowd, and in doing so, landed on Harry. “Harry Potter?” Lockhart spoke the name loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Harry lifted his hand quickly and tried to place the hair back over his scar. “No. You have me confused with someone else.” 

“Harry Potter! What a pleasure to meet you, why, I did not think that I would see you until I was a teacher. To think that Harry Potter himself came to my book signing, a big fan, are you not?” The man came around the table with such haste that Harry couldn’t help but take a step back. Lockhart reached out and grabbed his hand, forcefully shaking it. Harry really didn’t like the stranger who forced bodily contact upon him against his will, and he quickly tried to pull his hand back. 

“I’m really not-” Harry tried again. 

“Come, come, let us have a picture together. For the Daily Prophet!” The smile with the golden hair searched for his cameraman and waved him closer while trying to place an arm around Harry, who quickly stepped behind Malfoy. Lockhart’s arm hit the blonde boy on the head instead of getting to Harry. 

“I’m not interested!” Harry didn’t mean to raise his voice, but this man was making him very stressed. 

“Don’t be shy now, Mr. Potter.” The man tried once more to reach him but Malfoy hit the hand away before it could hit him again. 

“He said no.” The blonde boy spoke up, with far more authority than a boy his age should be able to project. “You are trying to force a minor into an official picture without his consent or the consent of his father. Now stop this ruckus before I call for the guards.” It was clear by the way he was formulating himself that he was mimicking something he had heard his father say, but Malfoy’s point was nonetheless true. Lockhart stopped, his smile locking into a stiff one. 

“This is all a misunderstanding, of course I am not trying to force the boy!” He laughed, looking around as if to find a way out of the mess he himself had created. “Here, to show how much I regret this misunderstanding, have my entire collection of books, all for free!” He picked up a trove of books and handed them to Harry. The son of a werewolf hesitated but as the crowd’s eyes stared into him, he felt obligated to accept the books. 

Malfoy sighed and grabbed the copies of the books he needed before pulling Harry along with him to a less crowded part of the store. Behind them, they could hear Lockhart’s voice boom again, this time, he was asking if anyone had any questions about his new profession before he returned to signing books. 

“Are you alright?” Malfoy asked Harry, as the son of a werewolf let out a shaky breath, holding on to the heavy collection of books as if it was the only thing he had to cling to in the world. Malfoy knew well how suffocating and frightening Harry found larger groups when all the attention was on him specifically. 

“I will be in a little bit… Thank you for helping me.” Harry focused on breathing in and out. “I really didn’t like the way he was trying to touch me…” He shuddered. “Did he say these were free? I really didn’t manage to follow all that.” 

“Yeah, apparently you got them all.” Malfoy shrugged, glancing down at the titles. “Seems you got the separate books and that trilogy one.”

“Lovely.” Harry responded in a dry voice. 

“Wow, Lupin, don’t you just get all the attention and everything for free…?” An annoyed voice reached them, causing both boys to turn towards it. “You just really love all the attention, don’t you?” Ron Weasley was standing in front of them, holding a cauldron which only contained two sad-looking books, they looked dirty and about to fall apart. The boy himself looked about the same as he had in school, but his clothes were so mismatched and colored in bright, strange patterns that he looked very badly dressed. His red hair didn't really help the color combinations. Especially in contrast to Malfoy’s well dressed and put together clothing, Weasley looked like nothing he wore actually belonged to him. 

Malfoy’s eyes traveled over him, and he made a face at the obviously hand-me-down clothes which Weasley wore. He looked like he was about to start insulting the red haired boy, but then he glanced at Harry, seemingly halted in his tracks and tried again. “Are you blind Weasley? That was obviously not what was happening.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Malfoy. Why don’t you go help your father in whatever shady thing he is up to?” Weasley grunted, glaring at the blonde like he was pest. “Bet your father is in a really bad state now, with the Muggle Protection Act? No longer allowed to abuse his magic powers as he wishes.” 

Malfoy’s expression turned dark. “If you think that my father enjoys torturing Muggles for entertainment or whatever it is you are trying to say, you are so wrong that I would be worried for your brain if I knew you to have one.” 

Weasley’s eyes gleamed with malice, it seemed that he realised that he had touched a sore spot and he was going for it with claws unsheathed. “Who said anything about torturing Muggles for fun? Since that was the first thing you thought of, maybe those rumors are true.” 

“How dare you speak ill of my father when yours is the very definition of a disgrace of a wizard!” Malfoy wasn’t screaming, but he had raised his voice slightly. Still, the bookshop was too loud for anyone of the adults to really notice, especially since they were far too busy with Gilderoy Lockhart. 

“What is going on here…?” A small, weak voice spoke up next to Weasley. It belonged to a small girl who Harry assumed to be his little sister, as she had the same red hair and complexion as her brother. Next to her stood two identical older boys, who had to be the rumored Weasley twins. Harry couldn’t remember their names, and he certainly had no idea who was who, but he had heard about them and their shenanigans at school. 

“Yeah, what is happening?” One of the twins looked between them. “Why are you calling our dad a disgrace, Malfoy?” 

“Oh my Merlin… You’re Harry Potter…!” Suddenly, the girl squeaked and quickly hid behind one of the twins. Before she did, Harry noticed that her face was now a bright red. 

Harry, who had remained mostly silent in the two boys throwing insults at one another, as he didn’t quite know how to stop them and was still feeling shaken by the earlier event with the wizard who was more smile than face, finally snapped out of his discomfort. He raised his hand to adjust his bangs, trying to cover the scar up once more. “I’m not, my name is-” 

“Lupin.” Said both Wesley twins, as one, causing Harry to blink at them in confusion. 

“It’s a joke at this point.” One of them explained. 

“Everyone at school knows that you prefer Lupin.” The other filled in. 

“So we joke about it.”

“It’s what we do.” 

“Whenever someone says the wrong name for something, we correct them by calling it a ‘Lupin.’” 

“Where is the… thing?” One of them demonstrated, pretending to be searching for something. 

“The Hippo-what’s-its-face.”

“It’s not a Hippogriff, it’s a Lupin.” They both laughed and Harry was left with an uncomfortable feeling that he was being made fun of without his consent. 

Normally, somebody joking about him wasn’t all that uncomfortable, but when a pair of strangers appeared and joked about his name and his fight to have that name recognised as his, it made him feel very uncomfortable. Not to mention rather disgusted by the behavior. “...That’s not very funny.” 

“Don’t mind them, Lupin, Weasleys are known for their lack of knowledge about everything.” Malfoy took the easiest, quickest route and retreated back to baseless insults for the sake of trying to make Harry happier. Of course, the baseless insult did nothing to actually make Harry feel any better. 

“Draco… mind your voice. What is the meaning of all this ruckus?” 

The soft, almost silk like voice which had just spoken was unfamiliar to Harry, who looked around for the owner. Before he had the chance to find him, Malfoy grabbed his head and readjusted his bangs. Harry wouldn’t realise it until much later, but the blonde boy had hidden the scar behind Harry’s hair once again, before turning to face his father. 

Lucius Malfoy was an impressive man, he had long, blonde hair and clothes which seemed to have been made for him. Everything about him looked tastefully expensive, from his polished shoes to the elegant cane which Harry assumed to contain his wand. He had an air about him which was both equally terrifying, elegant, and snobbish. Just like with his mother, Harry could see the family resemblance in Draco Malfoy’s father. 

Before his son could answer, the blonde man turned towards the gathered Weasleys. Just like his son had, he studied their clothes, his expression turning into a mocking one of false pity. “Look at this rabble… All of you must be Weasleys.” He reached out towards Ron Weasley’s cauldron and his broken books, picking them up and turning them over with a look which was both amused and mockingly pitying the children. “Maybe if Arthur could control himself, his poor littlest son wouldn’t need to be satisfied with these broken, pitiful scraps.” 

Next to Harry, Malfoy licked his lips, seeming somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of his father. Or rather, he was uncomfortable with the way his father was behaving, since Harry was there. Harry glanced at the blonde boy next to him, feeling a newfound understanding for the way the boy had been behaving when they had first met. An adult picking on children was very different from children fighting, it made Harry think of the way Professor Snape had behaved when they had first met, even if Lucius Malfoy was clearly a lot worse than the Potions Master had been. He was worse in the sense that he clearly went for the children’s weaknesses on purpose. 

“How sad.” The man put the books back in the cauldron, shaking his head. 

Harry noticed another red haired man coming towards them from behind the Weasleys side. He found immense relief in that his dad was trailing after the man, even if Remus was still looking somewhat stressed, he seemed a little less overwhelmed than he had when he came inside the store earlier. “Ah, children, there you are, where is you mo- Malfoy.” Arthur Weasley began speaking but his voice turned sour as he spotted the blonde man. 

Arthur looked just like Harry would have imagined him to. His robes were old and might have been colorful once, he wasn’t pudgy, but he had a round face and soft features, with bags under his eyes. Still, his eyes seemed alert and honest. Harry got the feeling that the man had never once been able to tell a lie and get away with it. 

“Arthur.” Lucius Malfoy responded, leaning his head to the side with a forced look of politeness which seemed to tick the man off even more. “Have you finally achieved your dream of a full household or is there another one on the way?” 

“I wouldn’t think that you’d understand it, seeing as your marriage was arranged for you and not out of love.” The red haired man bit back.

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes turned dark but his voice remained silky. “I haven’t seen you much at the Ministry lately, have your department finally closed down? It was high time for that.” 

“In fact, it has not!” Arthur Weasley looked proud. “We are very close to finally putting through the Muggle Protection Act, which would mean you better look over all your treasures and remove the illegal ones before I come for them with a warrant and an arrest certificate.” 

Malfoy wasn’t scared by his threats, he simply smiled, but Harry could tell that he was at least a little uncomfortable with the man’s words. “Sounds like a lot of overtime, do you even get paid? Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of magecraft if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of mages, Malfoy."

The two men stared at one another, and then both took a step forward as if they were about to attack the other with their bare hands. Harry opened his mouth, as if to stop them, but before he managed to, Remus had stepped between the two men, separating them by his being. Harry tended to forget just how tall his dad was, until he saw him in a crowd or around other adults. 

“There are children present. Both of you are embarrassing yourself.” Remus stated, pushing Arthur back while avoiding to touch Malfoy’s father. His son immediately concluded that Remus knew Arthur, but not the other man. 

Lucius Malfoy looked the werewolf over, before that same look of false pity crossed his face. “If I’m not mistaken, aren’t you Black’s old pet?” 

Harry blinked, of all the things which Lucius Malfoy could have said, why would he mention the name of Black? Was he talking about Sirius Black, the man who was suspected as an aid in the murder of Harry’s birth parents? The green eyed boy knew that Sirius Black had been a close friend of his dad’s, as well as his birth parents, but Remus tended to avoid speaking of the man, as it hurt him too much to think about him. 

The son of a werewolf couldn’t see his dad’s expression, but he could see Draco Malfoy’s. Next to him, his friend looked highly uncomfortable, and to everyone’s surprise, the blonde boy was the one to answer his father. “Father?” 

The man sighed but turned towards his child. “Yes, Draco? I’m currently speaking to this man here, what is it that you want?” 

“This is my close friend, Harry Lupin.” He showed towards Harry, whose scar was covered by his hair, thus hiding any traces of Potter which the father might have been able to see at a mere glance. “You are speaking to his father, Remus Lupin. Mother did mention meeting him a few months ago. As you know, mother and Mr. Lupin’s words are the cause for the current examination by the Hogwarts Board of Governors.” 

Lucius Malfoy turned back towards Remus with a very different expression, one which was no longer pitying but far more professional. “Oh, you are that Mr. Lupin. My sincere apologies for my misunderstanding, do forgive my rudeness.” He reached out his hand, which Remus accepted with a hesitant look on his face. “Me and my fellow governors are very thankful towards you for your intervening and input on the events which unfolded. It gave us just the reason we needed to be able to fully examine some problems which we have been suspecting at Hogwarts. Thanks to you, I believe that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be far safer this year than the previous one. As the chairman of the Board, I have been granted full rights to at any point investigate if we find cause for alarm in the school. I also have the right to fire any member of the staff which I deem a danger to the school or the safety of the dear students. You shall not have to worry for an incident such as last year’s repeating, very much granted by your own merit.” 

“You are the chairman of the Board of Governors right now…?” Arthur Weasley looked shocked and uncomfortable. “What happened with the previous one?” 

Malfoy’s father let go of Remus, whose hand he had been shaking throughout his speech. “People grow old Arthur, they want to move on from work and retire. Not everyone is as determinate as you are.” 

Harry was worried that they would start fighting again, but a stern look from Remus caused the red haired man to stop. There was a short silence, before Malfoy senior shook his head and began walking. “Come now, Draco. We shall pay for your books and return to your mother, she must be waiting for us by now. Mr. Lupin. Young Mr. Lupin.” He nodded towards the werewolf and the son of the werewolf, walking away. “See you at work, Arthur.”

“See you in school.” Draco Malfoy echoed his father, waving towards Harry, who waved back. 

“Did you get you lite- what are all of those?” Remus turned towards Harry and found that he was carrying a good ten books in his arms. All written by Gilderoy Lockhart. 

“I was…” Harry sighed, suddenly feeling very drained. “I was given them as an apology for Lockhart trying to force me into a picture with him. Apparently all is forgiven if you just give a person things…” He looked at the books with a look of distaste on his face. 

“My wife is a big fan of his.” Arthur Weasley said, as his two twin children made gestures of throwing up behind him. They were clearly not his fans. 

“These are far too many books for me, I’m not a fan. I only need two of these books, if your wife would take the others off my hands, I’d be endlessly grateful.” Harry held the books out towards the man, giving him a pleading look. 

The man hesitated, but then slowly accepted the books. “She’ll be very grateful.” He smiled. “Thank you, little Lupin.” 

Remus helped Harry get the books he needed from the collection, as Arthur handed some to his children for them to carry. As the little sister Weasley was given one of the books, she hugged it to her chest, whispering something about how Harry Potter was so very generous. Harry was reminded of Dobby, and he couldn’t help but shudder. 

When Harry and Remus finally managed to leave the bookstore, and Harry had returned the money he didn’t spend on course literature to his dad, he felt his head spin. He really wanted nothing more than to return home and get away from the buzz of the world. Remus seemed to want the same. They said goodbye to the Weasleys, the group didn’t seem to mind them, with the exception of Ron Weasley who refused to even look at Harry and his dad. He stood in the background with a fuming expression as the two groups said farewell. 

Harry grabbed his father’s hand, finally able to breathe out when they exited the Diagon Alley. “Can we go home now?” He asked his dad, looking up at him with tired eyes. 

Remus nodded. “Yes, we can go home now.” He sounded equally as tired as his son did. They would talk about the whole day later, but for now, they both needed a break from everything.


	4. Chapter 3 - in which Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is closed for unspecified reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you alright? What happened?” Remus was by his son’s side in a second, kneeling down to help Harry stand up as his leg clearly hurt. 
> 
> “The platform is closed…” Harry leaned against the man, rubbing his wrists with a distressed look on his face. “If we don’t get through, I won’t get to Hogwarts this year! The train only moves twice per term, if I don’t get there now, how will I-” 
> 
> “Shh, shh, it’s alright, Harry.” His dad held him, carefully stroking over his shoulder to calm him down. 
> 
> “But the train!” His son responded, all the more stressed.

Harry very much didn’t like Kings Cross station. It had been rather easy to ignore last year when he was overly excited about his first year at Hogwarts, but without the magic of new experiences, it was all the more noticeable how he didn't like the station. It was loud, busy, and everywhere one looked another clock would silently yell at them to hurry up to their destination by continuously ticking on. Harry and Remus had set out early, but everything seemed to have gone wrong. The bus had been late, the second train had been late, and by the time they arrived, they were both stressed out and late. 

Remus helped Harry carry the bags as they arrived by the platform. They looked around as to not have any Muggles notice them, before Remus signed for Harry to enter. Harry tried to step through the hidden opening but as he did, he found that instead of sinking through the illusionary wall, he collided with a completely solid one. His leg twisted in a bad angle, causing him to fall head first into the pillar. Luckily, he managed to catch himself against the wall before he hurt his face, but his wrists took the blunt of the impact instead. 

“Ow!” Harry cried out, causing his dad to forget all about the luggage and come to him. 

“Are you alright? What happened?” He was by his son’s side in a second, kneeling down to help Harry stand up as his leg clearly hurt. 

“The platform is closed…” Harry leaned against the man, rubbing his wrists with a distressed look on his face. “If we don’t get through, I won’t get to Hogwarts this year! The train only moves twice per term, if I don’t get there now, how will I-” 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, Harry.” His dad held him, carefully stroking over his shoulder to calm him down. 

“But the train!” His son responded, all the more stressed. 

“I came to see you at the school last year, and I didn’t take the train. There are ways to get to Hogwarts without taking the Express.” Remus reached out to touch the wall, confirming that the Platform really was closed. “I will write a letter to Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape each, when they have gotten the letter and replied, I will personally take you there. You don’t have to worry.” 

Harry finally began to calm down, helped by the awareness that his dad really was telling the truth. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe calmly as he counted to ten. Together, parent and child gathered their belongings and returned home. As Harry sat in the living room, reading a book and thinking of his friends who probably missed him at the train, with him being unable to tell them in any way, Remus wrote two letters and sent Agrippa off. 

They received a response a few hours later, when they were eating dinner. Professor Snape would come meet them at Hogsmeade, the little village close to Hogwarts. Harry had read about it, but he hadn’t actually seen it. Remus explained that he had been collected by a teacher whose name he didn’t know when he had been called to Hogwarts a few months ago. He mentioned in passing that he hadn’t met Narcissa Malfoy there, so he assumed that she might have arrived elsewhere and been collected by the Headmaster himself as they had both appeared together last year. 

Harry and Remus went to the basement, bringing all of Harry’s luggage with them as they went. Harry wasn’t in the basement very often, but there truly was nothing scary about it. The only even remotely abnormal thing was the large iron cage in a corner of the main room, which was usually hidden away by a curtain. The area around the cage was completely unharmed, except for a few minor scratch marks which seemed to have been made out of boredom rather than desperation or in rage. Harry thought with amusement of the beast lying in the cage, staring up at the ceiling and beginning to softly scratch on the floor out of sheer boredom. He did think that it was a little sad that he had to be locked up in the first place, but it was what Remus found the safest and most comfortable, so he tried to not think too much about how uncomfortable it had to be, for his dad’s sake. 

“Take my arm.” Remus held it out for Harry, who accepted it. “I’m going to apparate us to Hogsmeade. It is a rather uncomfortable feeling to apparate, it feels as if your entire body is being squeezed through a small opening, and it’s rather hard to breathe. All you have to do is stay calm and trust in me that I will get you to your destination.” He smiled reassuringly at the boy. “I would want to use Floo Powder rather than apparition, but the inn at Hogsmeade doesn’t accept Floo Powder travelers by the beginning of the study year.” 

“Why not?” Harry asked, frowning as he tried to figure out a reason why. 

“Their reasoning was that people tended to prefer that method over the Hogwarts Express, and they had students and their bags coming through their fireplace all day and evening. It caused a great mess and some people ended up appearing at the same time… It was very messy. Bigger places, like the Ministry, have precautions for their many travelers, but a small place like the Hogsmeade Inn cannot afford them.” Remus tried to keep the summary short and not too detailed. “Now, close your eyes, I will count to three, and we will apparate on three. Are you ready?” 

“I’m ready.” 

“One… Two… Three.” Remus counted loud and clear, then apparated with Harry clinging to his arm. 

Apparition was horrible. Harry felt like he was being squeezed on all sides, just like his dad had said. His ears hurt, causing him to cling tighter to his dad, as to not lose him. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain was over, and Harry nearly fell over. He would have if Remus hadn’t caught him, gently assisting him to sit down and seemed to have at least gotten down on his knees with him. Harry panted, greedily breathing in whatever of the cold night air he could. 

“Twelve might not be the most appropriate age for his first apparition.” Professor Snape’s dry, nasal voice reached Harry, who couldn’t look up at him out of fear of fainting. 

“I know, I know…” Harry’s dad’s voice was a lot closer to him, Harry was vaguely aware of his head leaning against the man’s chest. He felt like throwing up and faint, like he had almost been drowned and was now able to breathe once more. “I didn’t have any other safe options at the moment, and Harry was very eager to come today and not a week later. Just breathe, don’t focus on anything else.” 

Harry nodded and immediately regretted moving his head. Instead, he closed his eyes, leaning against Remus. 

The men were silent as the boy recovered. They had arrived on a side street in Hogsmeade, one which had been cleared out for the sake of apparition. Hardly any people traveled there so Remus wasn’t expecting anyone else to show up, thus he allowed himself and his son to linger just a bit to the side. 

“How have you been?” The silent night air was cold and calming around them. The village seemed silent and asleep, despite the sun still being up, clinging to the summer sky. Remus addressed the Potions Master in a voice which seemed too loud for the sleepy evening, yet probably wasn’t loud at all. 

“...Sufficient.” The Head of the Slytherin House responded. He didn’t seem intent on talking, yet the words exchanged help Harry focus on something other than not throwing up. 

“I suppose you did get my letter?” Remus sounded a little nervous, Harry couldn’t see it, but his dad was avoiding looking at his former classmate. 

“I did.” The voice had turned every drier than it normally was. 

“You never responded.” The werewolf didn’t sound accusing, but he did sound a little sad. 

“There was nothing to say. I corrected the behavior which you accused me of.” Professor Snape crossed his arms, looking away from the man, nearly scoffing out the words. Harry wondered what letter they were talking about, but he also couldn’t muster the voice to ask. Still, he got the feeling that he might know why Professor Snape suddenly started addressing him by his preferred name, last year. Snape hurriedly continued the conversation as to not have to hear Remus’ answer. “Has he recovered yet? Can you walk now, Lupin?” He spoke to Harry, who took a deep breath and nodded. 

Remus helped him to stand, Harry still felt a little shaken but he could stand just fine. His leg hurt slightly from walking into the wall earlier that day, but other than that, he had mostly recovered. “I’m fine. Thank you dad, sorry to keep you waiting, Professor.” He looked up at his dad, noticing that the man seemed to have a hard time looking away from the dark haired man with the hawk-like nose. Once his dad had dared looking, he hadn’t quite been able to look away. 

“We can rest a little longer if you feel like you need it. Apparition can be very taxing on the body.” Remus looked worried about him still, but Harry shook his head. 

“I’m fine. I think I will feel better when I start moving.” 

Father and son embraced one another, Harry promised to try and write once a month, and thanked his dad for helping him arrive at school that very day. Harry picked up his bags and turned to follow Professor Snape, waving back at his dad as he walked. Remus waved back, then hesitated, and called after them. 

“It was nice seeing you, Severus. Please take good care of my son.” 

Harry couldn’t see the Professor’s expression but he saw how the man halted and swallowed hard, before he continued walking, without turning back or responding. Harry looked back once more to see his dad stand alone in the middle of the empty main street of Hogsmeade. He was looking after them with a soft, humble expression on his face. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the expression was for him, Snape, or for the both of them. 

“Lupin!” Crabbe and Goyle’s expressions turned from frightened to happy rather quickly, and they came over to Harry to give him a big hug each. Harry had been taken to the Slytherin common room, and had decided to wait for his friends to finish the feast and come down to their sleeping quarters. 

“Where were you on the train?” Goyle asked. 

“And the feast?” Crabbe was quick to ask as well. 

“I want to say hi too, excuse me.” Blaise pushed the two big boys aside so that he could hug Harry as well. Harry returned it. “You have a lot of things to explain, and I am sure you are very eager to tell them all.” He said it with a teasing voice, but it was clear that he really did want some answers. 

Malfoy was standing a little behind the rest of the group, looking just a little uncertain of himself. Harry noticed his hesitation, thus stepping over and asking if he could hug him. The blonde boy looked surprised over the question but agreed without any hesitation. 

“Is.. something the matter?” Harry asked, leaning his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“I’m fine.” His friend replied. “It’s just… uhm…” He glanced at the group behind Harry, who all seemed equally perplexed by his behavior. “It’s fine. Didn’t you have some things you wanted to tell us all? As for why we didn’t get any letters from you this summer?” He switched topics. Harry noticed but allowed it. 

“Alright, so this summer, I was very confused as I didn’t get any letters from anyone. Not even Muggle letters from Granger, so…” Harry sat down on his bed and began explaining everything which had happened to him during the summer. He talked about the House Elf who had showed up at his home and admitted to stealing his letters. He made certain to avoid any descriptions which might lead to making Dobby identifiable, not that he thought that anyone of his friends would set out to track down a House Elf which they had no way of finding, but because it seemed the most fair to the creature himself. 

Harry proceeded about telling them of the apparent plot which seemed to be taking place at Hogwarts that year, which the House Elf had come to warn him about. He was honest in that it seemed a little far fetched that there would be a murder plot taking place in Hogwarts, which was such a realised safe place that it was often compared to Gringotts Bank in terms of safety levels. Still, the elf had seemed so honest and so very distressed about it that Dobby’s worries had been brought up to the Headmaster himself. 

Finally, he spoke of that day and how the platform had closed itself off to him and Remus. He told them about the letter exchange with the school and how Snape had come to get him in Hogsmeade. “I already ate at home, and I didn’t really feel like stomping in during the feast and have everyone look at me.” He shuddered. “So I waited for you here. I’m sorry, there wasn’t any way to tell you about what was happening while you were on the train.”

“We assumed you to be sitting with Granger and Longbottom.” Blaise told him, the boy having sat down next to Harry on his bed as he told his long story. “It was only when we realised that you weren’t by the Slytherin table that we became worried.” 

Nobody really wanted to talk about the idea that there was a murder plot supposedly taking place that year. They much preferred to think of it as taken care of by the Headmaster’s vigilance or that it was but a crazy House Elf’s ramblings. Thus, they all collectively chose to not speak of it now, and push it back to think about later. Instead, they began talking about what they had been doing that summer, beginning a conversation which should have taken place on the train but which had to be postponed until now. They talked until late in the evening, until Goyle finally reminded them what time it was and suggested that they head to bed so as to be able to handle classes in the morning. 

The day began like any other at Hogwarts. Harry and his fellow Slytherin students ate by their table, talking about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. That was to say that Malfoy talked about them, with a great deal of excitement, while Harry, Crabbe and Goyle listened while Blaise sleepily read the newspaper. There was a burst of laughter coming from the second year students by the Gryffindor table, causing the Slytherin boys to glance their direction. 

“Something seems up with Weasley’s wand.” Crabbe, who was the tallest of them, stretched his neck, frowning at the other table. “It looks like he is repairing it with spellotape. That doesn’t look all that good...” He shook his head and sat back down again. 

Harry was expecting the blonde boy next to him to insult the financial situation of the Weasleys, but Malfoy was silent, making no comment other than concluding that the Gryffindors were loud as usual. 

Their first class was Herbology together with the Gryffindor students. Harry was very excited to meet Neville and Granger, and he happily walked straight through the group of Gryffindor students to embrace Neville. The boy’s round face turned red when he was hugged, but he awkwardly hugged him back. Harry greeted him with a smile on his face and moved to try and hug Granger, however, to his surprise, she took a step back, holding her hands up. 

“I really don’t enjoy hugs in general.” She quickly explained. “I know we have hugged before, and I really don’t mind you, but, uhm… I’d much prefer it if you wouldn’t hug me. Unless I initiate it, then I would really appreciate a hug back.” The girl looked rather scared as she spoke, and her face had turned somewhat pale with worry. 

Harry blinked at her, pulling himself back. “Oh, I didn’t know. I’m a very clingy person, and I know that I am. Thank you for telling me, if I do forget, please remind me again. Your comfort is more important to me than hugs, and if I do forget, it’s not your fault but mine.” He smiled at her as relief washed over her face. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hey Lupin, greeting your boyfriend and girlfriend?” A teasing voice came from behind Harry, causing him to look behind him. The person who spoke had been another of the Gryffindor students, who Harry remembered as Ron Weasley’s friend. He thought his name was Dean Thomas but he couldn’t quite remember if he was correct. “If you like hugs so much, how about I have one too?” His fellow Gryffindors laughed as Seamus held out his hands, winking seductively at Harry. 

“He’s always like this…” Neville sighed behind him as Granger shrunk together slightly. “Try not to mind him, Harry.” 

“I won’t.” Harry tried to keep his spirits up, despite being uncomfortable with the idea that a stranger thought himself worthy of a hug just because Harry liked hugging his friends. 

“Alright, students. Places.” Professor Sprout called, urging the students to their places as class was beginning. 

Thomas threw Harry a kiss as he walked past to get back to his fellow Slytherin students. Blaise noticed the kiss and blew one back to the Gryffindor, causing the boy to turn red. 

“Today, we are going to transplant a group of Mandrake seedlings, can anyone tell me what Mandrakes are?” The teacher continued, looking over her class. Neville raised his hand and got permission to speak. 

“The Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used as the main ingredient to produce a powerful restorative. The concoction is used to turn people who have been transfigured or cursed, back to their original state. The cry of the adult Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it. It is a magical and sentient plant which has a root that looks like a human baby, the root’s cries are the part which emits the deadly cry, so as long as it is in the earth, the plant is completely safe to be around.” Neville gave a long answer, which caused most people to take a step back from the Mandrake plants, who suddenly looked a lot more threatening.

“Excellent! Twenty points to Gryffindor!” The Professor enthusiastically praised her student. Neville blushed over the number of points she had given him.

The lesson continued on with the students carefully up-earthing and placing the ugly baby seedlings into new pots. They screamed and cried but as everyone had protection over their ears to block out their screams, the lesson proceeded without anyone being exposed to the cries and fainting. Harry found that it was surprisingly satisfying to stuff the ugly thing into a bigger pot and just shove dirt over it until it stopped making so much noise. He wondered briefly if that was a sign that he was having a bad day or if everyone felt the same as he did. 

Afterwards, Harry and the rest of the students washed their hands, and headed back from the greenhouses towards the school. On the way back, Malfoy carefully grabbed Harry’s sleeve, pulling him to a halt. 

“Can I talk to you for a little bit?” He asked in a small voice, avoiding to look at Harry’s face. He looked more ashamed and insecure than Harry had ever seen him before. 

Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise turned to look when they realised that their friends had stopped. Harry called out to them, telling them that they would catch up with them later. The group looked at one another but then shrugged and continued. Blaise looked like he might want to know more later, but nonetheless, he allowed Malfoy the privacy he had clearly asked for. 

Instead of using the closest entrance to the castle, Harry and Malfoy wandered around the school grounds, heading towards the second closest entrance. Harry made certain to stay away from everyone else to allow his friend to speak to him without having to worry about being overheard. 

“Lupin…” The blonde boy licked his lips, looking up at his friend and then away again, appearing guilty and stressed. Harry wanted to hug him but he also didn’t want to interrupt him. “Do you know what a Death Eater is?” 

Harry’s heart sank in his chest, he felt too hot and too cold at once, and his mouth felt dry. Of course he knew what a Death Eater was, it was those misguided, hateful or destructive people who believed the Dark Lord’s ideas about blood and superiority granted to a person by right of their birth. It was a twisted, sick ideology which continuously came back to unprovable and false arguments about wanting to be better than others. 

Harry had been taught by his dad that the people who chose to follow the Dark Lord were likely no matter who they were either unreasonable, stupid, or dangerous. This was because their believes showed a lack of reasoning, logic and understanding of the world around them. Yet Remus had also told his son that although he needed to be mindful, he mustn’t be violent or discriminatory towards all of them without evidence for those behaviours. Those who had proven to be that dangerous deserved no respect, and if they further proved to be a threat, Remus wanted Harry to protect himself. However, there were those who had joined the Dark Lord out of fear, and those who had been hexed to. Alienating those who are trying to do better, those who are trying to seek forgiveness and a new path is far too big a problem to be overlooked. Yet the Wizarding World, for all that it was, often took the easiest way out of a situation, and would rather blame everyone and condemn even those who didn’t deserve it. The son of a werewolf knew that all too well. 

The green eyed boy took a deep breath, and spoke up. “I know of them, yes. The followers of the Dark Lord, why do you ask?” He hoped that he didn’t sound accusing, but by the look on Malfoy’s face, it wouldn’t have mattered what he had said, the other boy still looked uncomfortable. 

“A-after the previous war… When he was defeated by… well, you.” Malfoy stuttered out a sentence. “My… family has always been accused of being Dark Wizards, and because we are Purebloods, everyone assumed that we supported and believed in him. I mean, not me, personally, as I wasn’t exactly sentient when I was one year old.” He tried to speak without trouble, but it was clear that he wasn’t actually managing. Harry carefully took his hand. This seemed to calm the blonde boy down somewhat, as he squeezed Harry’s hand in return. 

“I have always been proud of my heritage, I have always been proud of my blood. I have been taught to be, and I am not ashamed of it.” Malfoy continued. “I understand that the things I find important aren’t as important to others, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to prioritise differently than they do. To me, bloodlines are important, and I feel like it is my duty to keep it...well, pure.” 

Harry personally disagreed with the idea that any bloodline could be pure, but Malfoy was clearly struggling, and he didn’t want to get into a discussion of blood with someone who held the beliefs Malfoy held. The other clearly knew that Harry didn’t agree with him, and he was even respectful enough to let Harry know that he didn’t demand that Harry agreed with him, but respected that it was important to the blonde wizard. Thus, the son of a werewolf nodded, allowing his friend to continue speaking. 

“Because of our beliefs, we have become comparatively removed from other people in the mage community, and I remember my family having been accused of being Death Eaters many times. The Ministry even judged that my dad was… Well they judged him not guilty of being a Death Eater, and it’s still whispered about wherever I go. It was easy enough to ignore before, but after knowing that the Dark Lord isn’t really dead, I…” Malfoy stopped himself. “I’m no longer staying on the topic… Let me try again.” 

“Because of our beliefs about blood and purity of our own bloodline, people tend to think we are supporters of the Dark Lord. My father is in a very dangerous position where people’s opinions can change very quickly, and he has tried very, very hard to remain neutral. He has stayed away from anything to do with Harry Potter, because it can compromise our entire lives if people judge us based on… well, if people judge us to be on His side.” Malfoy managed to explain what he had tried to, and he took a deeper breath before he continued to what he was actually trying to say. Harry squeezed his hand again, once more reminding him that he wasn’t alone. 

“At home, I have been calling you Lupin. Not because of any underlying reason, but because that is who I know you as, and who you want to be.” He kicked a fallen branch, sending it spiraling into the Forbidden Forest, which almost seemed like a normal forest in the light of the day. “I’m not sure what my father would think, do, or say if he learns that you are also Harry Potter. I don’t try to hide it because I’m ashamed to be your friend, but mother did speak to me about it that day when you woke up in the hospital wing. She told me that I shouldn’t speak of you by that name, which I wasn’t planning on. It’s not that we are hiding it from my father, but mother reasoned that it wasn’t worth the risk, as we are clearly good friends.” 

Harry couldn’t help but to speak up at that point. “You’re a great friend, Malfoy. I’m really happy to have you. It is a little hard to hear that I’m apparently that… problematic to your da-, father, but I do understand what you are saying, and I am not mad. Still… uhm…” He hesitated. “You are not trying to say that you don’t want to… be my friend anymore, right?” 

“That’s not it!” Malfoy answered so quickly and with so much conviction that Harry almost dropped his hand. “I simply thought that it wouldn’t ever be a problem, I never thought you’d actually meet my father. I… felt like I was trying to hide you when we were in the book store. I didn’t want you to think that I am ashamed of you, I’m not. I just don’t want my father to know because I am scared that we would be separated as friends if he knew. Not because he would necessarily dislike you, but because it could cause consequences I’m not willing to deal with.”

Harry couldn’t help but imagine what this conversation would have been like for him if his dad hadn’t been a werewolf. He wondered if he might not have understood the other’s point of view, or found himself hurt by the implications of what Malfoy was saying. However, as the son of a werewolf, Harry understood far too well that one sometimes had to keep things secret to be allowed to have them, even if that shouldn’t have to be the case. Just like Harry couldn’t allow anyone to know about his dad’s nature, Malfoy couldn’t allow his father to know about Harry, both actions could lead to loss of the person they both cared about. There was nothing to blame the person with the secret for, but all the more reason to blame the society which didn’t allow the secret to exist as anything but a secret. 

“I understand how you feel.” Harry confessed. “There are things I’m not comfortable telling, because of similar reasons. You don’t have to worry about me disliking you for it, and I’m not very likely to run into your father again anytime soon.” He smiled at his friend. “Thank you for telling me all about it.” 

Malfoy already seemed cheered up, and he squeezed Harry’s hand, smiling at him. He truly looked like he had needed to speak about the troubles which weighed his mind down, as it seemed to have lifted his spirits already. “You really do act mature. Sometimes you make me feel like such a child.” 

“Hey, you make it sound like I’m sounding old.” Harry laughed. “I’m just trying to respond in clear ways and be a good example.” 

Malfoy snorted and looked up at the clear blue sky, watching the clouds slowly travel across it. “I think you are. A good example that is.” Harry was about to reply but it seemed that the blonde boy had gotten embarrassed by his own words and quickly continued on with another topic. “Are you coming to watch me during the Quidditch tryouts this weekend?” 

The son of a werewolf smiled, squeezing his friend’s hand back. “Definitely.” 


	5. Chapter 4 - In which Draco Malfoy tries very hard to make new friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The camera went off, causing a blinding flash of white light which stunned Harry in place. As he tried to recover from the flash, he heard a little voice peek up. 
> 
> “I’m Colin Creevey, I’m a first year Gryffindor!” 

The camera went off, causing a blinding flash of white light which stunned Harry in place. As he tried to recover from the flash, he heard a little voice speak up. 

“I’m Colin Creevey, I’m a first year Gryffindor!” 

As Harry’s vision returned, he found that a small boy was standing in front of him, dressed in robes which bore the red and gold insignia of the Gryffindor emblem. He was small, even for a first year student, and had an almost mouse-like appearance. His eyes were big and his hair the color of mouse fur. 

“I’m sorry for the picture, I didn’t mean to take it, but I got so excited when I saw you that I accidentally hit the button.” The mouse-like boy continued, raising his camera with an apologetic look on his face. “Do you maybe think, would it be alright if, can I have a picture?... So I can prove I've met you. I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you, and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead... It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts." There was a lot of words at once. 

“What is that thing doing inside Hogwarts?” Malfoy more or less barked at the younger child, pointing accusingly at the camera. “Who allowed you to bring it around with you?” 

The boy blinked and studied his camera. “Nobody said I wasn’t allowed to. And I really didn’t mean to take that picture, here, I will give it to you as an apology.” He pulled the picture from the camera and handed it to Harry, but Malfoy grabbed it instead, looking down at it like it was a threat or a dangerous magical artifact. “So can I take a picture?” The boy piped up again.

“Uh, I’d rather not…” Harry shook his head. “I don’t really like photographs all that much.” 

The boy looked sad. “Then how am I to prove I met you? The great Harry Po-” 

“Lupin.” Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all interrupted the boy at once, so fiercely that it made him shut his mouth. Harry had never liked his friends more. 

“We don’t really have time for this.” Blaise spoke up, lightly taking Harry’s arm and began to walk again. “Don’t try to take any more photographs of Harry, or we will report it to Professor Snape.” 

“And don’t treat him like a celebrity, it’s making him uncomfortable.” Malfoy made a point to pass the first year close by in a threatening manner. Crabbe and Goyle did the same, passing on both sides while allowing their big bodies to lightly brush against the first year student. The boy almost dropped his camera. 

Harry looked back at the commotion which his friends had caused in response to the boy’s behaviour. “You don’t… need to be threatening…” He objected, finding himself a little despicable for actually being thankful for their ways of acting, at least this once. He sighed, and softly reprimanded his friends when Colin Creevey was out of sight. 

“He already crossed the line.” Crabbe huffed. “It is the only way that works with those types of people. You gotta put your foot down hard before they think that they can do whatever they want.” 

“There should be other ways than appearing threatening.” Harry almost felt too tired to argue against Crabbe, and he wasn't entirely certain Crabbe was all that wrong about it. 

He had long since expected that he might come to meet a person like Colin Creevey one day, but it had always seemed so impossible that he had rejected the idea. Nonetheless, he had met three people who regarded him as more than he was in less than a month. Four if one counted Lockhart, but Harry was somewhat certain that the smile with a hairdo was more interested in making himself seem more famous by using Harry to boost his own fame. Nonetheless, the boy with the camera had been uncomfortable to Harry, and the discomfort lingered even after they had turned a corner and the longing mouse-like eyes could no longer see them. 

Malfoy looked down at the photograph he had taken from the Gryffindor boy, and sighed. “Why does Blaise always look good? I look like a weasel in this picture.” 

Harry glanced at it, and found that he himself had moved his neck back, him to have a severe case of toad neck. He snorted. “We do look like a toad and a weasel. You do look good, Blaise.”

“Am I in it?” Crabbe grabbed the photo, and looked a little disappointed. “Just my shoulder.” 

Goyle leaned in to look as well, quickly shaking his head. “Whatever my expression is supposed to mean, I’d be grounded for it if it was picture day.” 

“Why isn’t it moving though… Is that a Muggle thing?” Crabbe shook it slightly to try and make their little friend group move in the picture. 

“Yes, Muggle pictures don’t move.” Blaise informed him, reaching over his shoulder to take the picture back. He stared at it for a while, then laughed. “I’m keeping this.” 

His decision was met with a storm of protests, but Blaise slid the photograph into his pocket, refusing to let his friends take it from him. 

The benches in the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom were meant for three people to sit in. Normally, Harry and Blaise would sit with Theodore Nott, and Malfoy would sit with Crabbe and Goyle. Nott had already arrived and claimed a good spot in the center of the room where he could still see the board but also hid behind someone else’s back if he got the urge to tinker with something. Nott often got the urge to tinker. 

This class was with the Gryffindor students, Granger and Neville had already taken the front seats, but not everyone was there yet. Next to Harry, he noticed that Malfoy had clenched his jaw, seemingly steadying himself for something. Instead of stopping by one of the seats, he made his way to the front, breaking all unwritten rules by moving over to the Gryffindor side of the room. 

“Is this seat free?” Malfoy probably didn’t mean to sound as aggressive as he did when he asked about the seat next to Neville. 

“No, we… I mean, yes it is free… We weren’t saving it for anybody.” Neville somewhat managed to reply to his question. 

“Very well.” Malfoy sat down next to them, staring at the board as if the blank surface was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Harry smiled at his efforts. He didn’t know what had prompted Malfoy to try and expand his friend circle, but he was very excited to see him try. Perhaps whatever bonds had been made between them in the trials last year was enough that Malfoy really did feel like there was something worth having with the other two. 

“Hey, Nott, we’re sitting on this side today.” Harry called as he took the seat behind Granger. 

Nott looked up with a confused look on his face. “But that’s the Gryffindor side, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t see anything labelling it as such.” Blaise mused, joining Harry in the seat behind Neville. 

“...Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Nott gathered his things and came over. 

Crabbe and Goyle looked at one another, before heading over to the seat behind Harry’s group. They were large enough to take up a lot of the seat, but there was enough space to fit one more person. Now that they had lost their usual candidate, they looked around for a new one. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, but a few groups of girls and boys had arrived, gossiping about Lockhart and the excitement of seeing him. However, there was one girl who sat alone in the back of the classroom, looking distant as she fumbled with her copy of  _ Magical Me _ . 

“Hey, Parkinson?” Crabbe called out to her, causing her to almost drop the book. 

She turned towards him with a vicious look on her face, the type of expression which only came with years of bullying, and a desire to strike before stricken. “What?” Pansy Parkinson hissed through clenched teeth. 

“Do you wanna sit with us? We have a seat free and would like to have you.” Crabbe answered, a little scared by her vicious response, but also honest in his request. 

Some of the groups began to whisper as the pug-faced girl turned red. She licked her lips as a sultry expression came over her face. She glanced at the group of Gryffindor girls but then stood and walked over to the two bigger boys, sitting down by Crabbe’s side. She curled together somewhat, smiling down at her copy of  _ Magical Me. _

“How was your summer?” Malfoy tried to initiate a conversation with Neville and Granger, mostly addressing Neville. He seemed to have a slightly harder time speaking to Granger, but if it was because she was a girl or Muggle-born was unclear. 

It became clear that his question wasn’t a particularly welcome one. Neville looked tense, avoiding his eyes as he gave a small shrug while Granger’s eyes seemed to become slightly watery. Malfoy realised that he had made a mistake, and quickly tried to change subjects by talking about Quidditch. Neville’s expression sour slightly, as his strongest associated memory with Malfoy and Quidditch was him stealing his Remembrall. Even though Neville hadn’t been there at the time, he had never gotten an apology from Malfoy about it. Granger whispered under her breath that she didn’t like Quidditch very much. 

Malfoy was just about to try again, but he was interrupted by the far off sound of the grand clock striking the hour. The students who had been standing outside the classroom and talking flooded inside, and after some confusion over Harry and his friends' disruption of the status quo placements, everyone took their seats. 

For a while, everything was silent, except for subtle murmurs from some groups. Then, music started playing from somewhere, soft yet powerful music, silently promising something quite grand. Blue fog filled the room, before it erupted into a soundless explosion by the teacher’s desk, and Gilderoy Lockhart appeared as the music escalated to triumphant, holding his arms out like he had just performed the most astounding of feats. More than half of the students began clapping their hands, cheering for the appearance of the teacher like one did a celebrity. Harry noticed Granger clapping enthusiastically alongside Neville, but all he could think of was that the man must have been hiding under the desk all this time, as apparition wasn’t possible within Hogwarts. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” Lockhart grinned, waving at his class before clapping his hands. As he did, a projector started, and the fog and music both dimmed down but didn’t quite disappear. Behind the man, a white sheet lowered to allow the projection to be displayed upon it instead of the black board. The lights lowered and Lockhart’s smiling face became visible on the white sheet, alongside the words ‘Who am I? A presentation of a Magical Master.’ 

“Allow me to introduce myself!” The man had a good speaking voice, he could clearly be heard all over the room, he had both perfect pronunciation and articulation to be an interesting speaker. However, that did not mean that what he said was any less false. “Me, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Mage Monthly's Most Charming Smile Award, but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" Most of the class laughed. 

“As for my other merits, I have worked with and countered a collection of different types of magical creatures. I have great experience in dealing with a variety of Dark, Evil creatures, included but not limited to: Banshees, Ghouls, Hags, Trolls, Vampires, Werewolves and Yetis.” As he mentioned werewolves as Dark creatures, Harry almost growled at him. Everything on the list mentioned beside werewolves were actual Dark creatures, not a sickness which affected a person once a month. Vampires were the closest to straight up sentient humans on the list otherwise, but they were undead creatures every day and always, and a great deal of work had gone into preserving them within the mage community, and making certain they weren’t hunted or became extinct. To bunt werewolves together with the rest of the list was uninformed at best and frankly disastrous for an already discriminated against group. 

“Now, a lot of my experience does center around magical creatures, but do not worry, I shall teach you how to properly deal with them. However, before we begin class, I shall continue with my presentation, ending with a short quiz about your student literature. I need to know how well you have read it so as to not confuse some of the less quick read students!” He turned towards the presentation again, and changed slides. 

Most of the lesson ended up being about the man himself. It was hard to shake the feeling that it was only to boost the man’s ego, but he did mention some things which did seem to have some manner of factual base. Compared to Professor Quirrell, who had been stuttering out story after story which led nowhere, at least Lockhart had a vision for what he was trying to teach and seemed to be following the curriculum. That didn’t mean that he was a good teacher, or that Harry believed his knowledge to be correct, but at least Lockhart seemed more capable than Quirrell. Not good, but at least capable. 

While the lesson was not quite a disaster, Malfoy certainly viewed it as one. He tried over and over to speak with Neville and Granger, and while the two of them didn’t show any hostility towards him, none of the usual topics worked to speak to them about. Not that he tried to talk to them about Quidditch during the lesson, but during the breaks and when working with the final quiz, his demanding behavior and way of speaking made for a confused and somewhat uncertain Neville, and a Granger who found herself having to correct a lot of his words or statements. 

“I don’t even know why I tried in the first place.” Malfoy complained to his friends when he was alone with them and the Defense against the Dark Arts lesson had ended. He looked drained, and a little angry. “They just rejected everything I said unless she was correcting me.” 

“She really is full of herself.” Pansy Parkinson responded, she had decided to follow them around after class, so they invited her to come and join them. “Always thinks that she knows better than everyone else.” 

“That isn’t true.” Harry responded in a stern voice, looking down at her with disapproval in his eyes. “If Malfoy has something wrong, she is allowed to correct him, especially if they are working together on a project.”

“But she doesn’t have to do it in that tone.” The girl complained, pouting up at Harry in a way which made her look even more like a pug. Harry pushed back the urge to pet her on the head. That would be both rude and demeaning. 

“There is no tone.” The son of a werewolf responded. “You are only imagining it to be because you are insecure. She is not enjoying showing off her intellect or anything like that, but she genuinely wants to help, and to do that she has to share her knowledge.” 

“Why do you defend her so much? Are you in love with her?” Parkinson’s expression turned to accusing. “You’re always hanging around her, and defending her, it’s actually kind of weird. I heard what Dean Thomas said. Girls don't like it when you creep around them like that.” 

Blaise was the one to answer first, as Harry found himself completely silenced by the absolute madness in the accusations the girl had just thrown at him. As he tried to wrestle with the accusations, the pug-like Slytherin smirked as if she had clearly won the argument. “Harry is defending her because what you are saying isn’t true. He doesn’t have to like anyone to not want them to be misrepresented in the eyes of other people.” 

“Also, Lupin doesn’t spend more time with her than us.” Crabbe informed her. “When he does, he is spending equal time with Longbottom, so it’s not even about her.” 

“Dean Thomas has never said anything worth listening to about other people. You shouldn’t listen to him, it’s just baseless gossip.” Malfoy joined in on defending Harry and Granger’s friendship. He even managed to discredit the Gryffindor boy by using arguments rather than accusations. 

“But Lupin fought a troll for her last year!” For whatever it was worth, Parkinson was brave and headstrong, and not so easily swayed. 

“I didn’t fight a troll last year.” Harry finally recovered enough to answer for himself, yet he was thankful for his friends helping him when he wasn’t quite able to answer her personally. “I found them and the three of us ran away from the troll together. I didn’t specifically do it for them, I would have done it for anyone I knew was in trouble in the same way.” 

“It makes just as much sense to accuse Lupin of being in love with Longbottom.” Goyle added, his brow furrowed in thought. “He’s always there when Lupin meets Granger, why have you decided that Granger is the one he’s apparently in love with?” 

“B-because…!” The pug-faced girl was blushing now, her shoulders raised in defense, which added to the pug-likeness all the more. At least she had realised that she had lost the argument.

Nobody wanted to speak any more on the subject, as it seemed to all of them that Parkinson clearly didn’t have anything else worthwhile to say. Thus, Malfoy went back to addressing Harry. 

“Should I just give up? It’s clearly not working.” He more or less whined. Not quite a whine, but almost. 

“I think that you are doing great. It’s not your fault that your interests and hobbies don’t overlap perfectly. Since Granger likes reading, why don’t you ask her about books? I believe she is very interested in magical history, which I think you like too?” 

“I don’t… love it, but I suppose I think it’s rather interesting.” Malfoy agreed. “And Longbottom? He likes Herbology, should I have him talk about that? I think it’s rather boring to listen to, so I’d rather not but…” He absently chewed on his lower lip, looking displeased. 

“Before any of that, did you ever apologise to Neville?” Harry asked, trying to meet his friend’s eyes despite Malfoy avoiding his gaze. 

“Apologise?” The blonde boy sounded almost offended as he responded. “Whatever should I apologise for?” 

“For taking his Remembrall last year and trying to break it.” The son of a werewolf pedagogically reminded him of what had happened during the first flying lesson. 

Harry had seen Malfoy blush before, but never quite as hard as he blushed upon being called to remember that event. “He wasn’t even there…! Why should I apologise, you gave the ball back, did you not?” He huffed, clearly avoiding to look at Harry now. 

“Maybe you should start with apologising, and then move forward from there.” He wasn’t deterred by Malfoy’s raised voice, but calmly instructed him to do what was right. 

It took the blonde boy a while to gather himself, but Parkinson remained silent, despite clearly wanting to speak up and defend Malfoy’s actions as righteous. She must have realised that she would be shut down if she tried, thus following them silently. 

Finally, Malfoy spoke up. “You’re right. Yes, fine. You are right again. I will apologise for trying to break his Remembrall.” 

Harry smiled and patted him on the back, feeling both proud over his friend and satisfied that he had motivated the other to do what he should have done long ago. Harry knew just how hard it was for Malfoy to apologise or admit that he was or had done something wrong. “You will do great.” He encouraged his fellow Slytherin student. 

Malfoy smiled up at him with a nervous, crooked expression which witnessed how nervous he actually was about the whole idea. 

While it was hard for everyone involved in the beginning, the tension between the two Gryffindor students and Malfoy seemed to become far less awkward after he apologised to Neville. It didn’t make them the best of friends, but it did make it easier for them to talk, as Neville no longer feared that Malfoy was only approaching him for the sake of hurting or making fun of him. As for Granger, the two of them talked about books. It seemed that the blonde wizard and the curly haired witch had a lot in common when it came to reading, making it quite easy for them to find a topic to discuss. Still, Malfoy didn’t approach them alone, and he didn’t try to sit with them during any more classes, as that proved to be too awkward for him to be able to handle. Mostly, he spent time around the two when Harry did, joining in with their study sessions, or talking briefly before class. 

All in all, it was working, the four of them did get along, and they had things to talk about, but there was clearly an air of tension between Malfoy and the Gryffindors. Despite their attempts to overcome it, it was there. It didn’t bother Harry too much, as he was confident that it would disappear with time, as the group learnt that nothing bad was really going to happen. 


	6. Chapter 5 - in which Ron Weasley proves that spellotape isn’t enough to repair a broken wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it again. Quickly looking away from the group of friends who had come to check on him. 
> 
> Granger, who was a lot more observant than Harry had already seemed to connect the Gryffindor Chaser’s words to what had happened. She turned to Malfoy with a gaze which turned accusing. “These brooms… did you buy yourself into the Slytherin team, Malfoy?” Her voice was hurt and upset. Granger had very strong principles of right and wrong, and she was always trying to call it out if she saw something she couldn’t agree with. 

“Flint says that there will be no watching the tryouts this year.” Malfoy sighed as he sat back down by the Slytherin table after having talked about the tryouts with the Slytherin Quidditch captain. He was frowning as he spoke of it, looking rather uncertain and hesitant. “Only those who are trying out for the team are allowed to come, no spectators this time.” 

“Really?” Harry’s expression mirrored his friend’s. “I wonder why, do many people generally come to watch the tryouts? Maybe it’s a safety risk to them if the players can’t control the danger-balls.”

“The Bludgers, Lupin. Bludgers.” Malfoy whimpered at him, highly offended that his friend couldn’t remember the name of the balls. “But no, usually, it’s not a problem enough to not allow spectators, and there aren’t usually that many spectators in the first place.”

“Well… I suppose we will have to wish you good luck and you’ll have to tell us all about it later?” Harry concluded, reaching for another piece of scones to add to his breakfast. “Goyle, can you pass the pumpkin jam?” 

“Sure.” 

The jam came to Harry, who happily put it on his scone, much to everyone else’s displeasure. Still, they had stopped complaining about it, and just let him do what he wanted to his own food. It was kind of silly to complain about how someone else enjoyed their food in the first place, and it very quickly became silly seeing that Harry wouldn’t let himself be swayed about it. It really was nobody else’s business. 

“Although,” Malfoy smiled, seemingly switching to a much more exciting topic for him. “Captain Flint said that he had been waiting for me to come talk to him. He must have known that I’m an excellent flier and looked forward to having me on the team.” 

“Definitely.” Harry smiled at him. “I’m glad he’s that excited to have you.” 

“It’s time… I should get my broom and go warm up.” Malfoy stood up, leaving his half eaten breakfast on the plate in front of him, his eyes looking off towards great purposes and a potential Quidditch career. 

“Good luck.” Blaise smiled at him, looking up from his newspaper with a soft expression on his face. 

“You’re the best, Malfoy!” Goyle cheered for him. 

“Go get that Golden Snitch!” Crabbe patted him on the back, trying hard to not do it too enthusiastically. 

“I shall see you all later.” Malfoy hurried from the Great Hall with an excited grin and eyes which practically shone with energy and purpose. 

When Harry met Malfoy again that day, something was clearly wrong. Malfoy had come to find him with Granger and Neville in the library, where they usually spent time together. Malfoy looked distant, and he seemed to be thinking intensely of something. All the enthusiasm and excitement which he had possessed that morning seemed completely gone. 

“What happened, didn’t you pass the tryouts?” Harry asked before he really had time to think the question over. He realised almost as soon as the words had left his lips that they were rather insensitive, but before he could correct himself, Malfoy had answered. 

“No, I passed, I’m on the team.” 

“That’s wonderful, congratulations!” Granger smiled at him, but he turned away from her as if her smile hurt him. 

“Of course… I’m the youngest, lightest flier… There is no reason as to why I wouldn’t be good enough for the team.” Malfoy muttered. 

“Nobody doubted you, congratulations, Malfoy.” Harry smiled. “Do you wanna sit down with us, we were talking abou-”

“No, I’m fine.” Malfoy’s words were so quick and so harsh that Harry felt stunned by them, like the words truly had whipped him over the face. “I’ll be… somewhere else. I’m busy today.” 

Before anyone could speak to him, he began walking away hastily, not stopping to say hi when someone greeted him on the way out. 

“That’s not… how he normally is, right?” Granger looked at Harry with worried eyes. 

“No…” Harry looked after his friend. “I’ll talk to him later, it seems that something happened. I hope it wasn’t at the Quidditch tryouts, those really meant a lot to him.” 

Neville looked after blonde wizard as well. “But he did get the position he wanted… what reason could he have to be upset?”

Malfoy proceeded to not want to talk about the tryouts, no matter what Harry or anyone else asked. He summarised briefly that he had gotten the position, and that Flint was very satisfied with him, but he refused to talk any more about it. Blaise quickly gave up trying, but Harry, Crabbe and Goyle continued to carefully ask until Malfoy snapped at them and told them to stop bothering him. 

Older Slytherin students would come up to Malfoy every now and then, pat him on the back or tell him that they were very glad to have him on the team. Even Flint himself greeted Malfoy in the corridors, but it seemed that all the positive attention was stressing him out all the further. He stopped coming with Harry to spend time with Granger and Neville, and he only really seemed happy when he was allowed to forget all about Quidditch. 

Needless to say, his behavior was worrying Harry and his fellow Slytherin students a lot. Blaise was the only one who remained calm about it, saying that Malfoy would admit what was bothering him sooner or later, and that pushing him was likely only hurting him more. He was right, but it was still hard on Harry, Crabbe and Goyle. 

“Slytherin has a practice match today.” Harry told Neville and Granger, who both looked up at him with surprised expressions on their faces. “I’m going to go there and figure out what is wrong. It’s definitely related to Quidditch, and I’m really worried at this point.” 

“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to try and force the reason for him feeling bad out of him this way.” Granger responded, carefully shaking her head. “You really should try and talk to him over this.” 

“I have tried to talk to him, he simply won’t tell me what’s wrong and at this point, I’m so worried that I don’t know what to do. I’m really not planning on doing anything else than watch. I already got permission from Captain Flint, so I won’t be doing anything I shouldn’t be.” Harry rambled. “It might be nothing, it could be that he is just stressed about actually being a real Quidditch player, and I’m overthinking it.” 

“We’ve all seen Malfoy fly.” Neville spoke up, nodding at Harry’s words. “He got the position he wanted, and he really is good enough to have it. I am not sure what else he could be worried about when it comes to Quidditch.”

“He isn’t normally shy or has stage fright, right?” Granger glanced at Harry, who blinked in confusion over her question. 

“Stage fright?” Harry questioned. Neville looked equally confused. 

The girl’s face heated. “Oh, uh, I… It’s a Muggle saying. It means being scared of performing in front of an audience.” She explained quickly. 

“Oh. No, he doesn’t have that from what I know. Malfoy rather likes hearing his own voice and being heard, I don’t think that is a problem of his.” The son of a werewolf explained. “Either way, I’m going there. Are you coming with me or not? You don’t have to, but some company would be very appreciated.” 

“Sure.” Neville began picking his items together, as did Granger. 

“We’ll come with you.” She smiled. 

When they arrived at the Quidditch arena, they heard loud voices. The group of friends looked at one another, before carefully stepping onto the arena, finding the Gryffindor team and the Slytherin team screaming at one another. 

“I’ve booked the arena for today, Flint!” Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, yelled at the Slytherin student. 

“Well, Professor Snape has issued this permit, allowing us to practice.” Marcus Flint held up a piece of parchment, grinning at the other teenager’s anger. “He issued the slip since we need to practice with our new brooms. So you better be a good boy and share with us, Woodie.” 

“Don’t call me that, and that isn’t right! Your fancy new brooms don't give you the right to break the rules. You can have the arena when we are done.” Wood spit out the words, looking ready to hit Flint with his broom. 

“You will use it all day, it doesn’t matter how much you force your lousy team to practise, you’ll never get anywhere close to the Quidditch Cup.”

“At least our team plays fair! Not by letting sleazy little Seekers in in exchange for new equipment.” A young teenager shouted at Flint, and so the screaming began from both sides. 

Harry, Neville and Granger came up to the Slytherin team, as Harry led the way and had approached the familiar shape of Malfoy, who seemed to be curled together in the back of the group. He looked very stressed, even from far away. 

“Hi.” Harry called out to Malfoy, who turned towards them. His face instantly turned pale, causing Harry to think that he looked like he was about to faint. “What are they fighting about? What new equipment are you…” 

This close by, it was impossible to miss that all Slytherin students were holding brand new brooms, so very new that they looked to be fresh from the manufacturer. Harry didn’t know a lot about brooms, but even he could tell that the brooms which the Slytherin students were holding seemed far too expensive for students to own. 

Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it again. Quickly looking away from the group of friends who had come to check on him. 

Granger, who was a lot more observant than Harry had already seemed to connect the Gryffindor Chaser’s words to what had happened. She turned to Malfoy with a gaze which turned accusing. “These brooms… did you buy yourself into the Slytherin team, Malfoy?” Her voice was hurt and upset. Granger had very strong principles of right and wrong, and she was always trying to call it out if she saw something she couldn’t agree with. 

Harry felt realisation hit him like a cold stone. Everything made sense now, as to why Malfoy had been so dismissive and upset about the tryouts. He hadn’t gotten in by skill alone, and it had been tearing him apart.

The excessive stress, guilt and pain which Malfoy had been forced through the last weeks seemed to explode into rage. He looked at Granger with so much hatred and disgust that it shocked the three friends into silence. 

“How dare you speak to me like that? You filthy Mudblood!” 

It was like the entirety of time simply stopped. Everything became silent, with everyone staring at Malfoy, who glared at Granger like she was the cause for all his struggles. Then time started again, with every Gryffindor student shouting at Malfoy at once while the Slytherin students stepped in to keep them back from the twelve year old boy. 

Harry felt a sudden rage burn his chest and his cheeks, causing him to feel a sickening type of taste fill his mouth. He knew that Malfoy was a Pureblood, and he knew that he shared the mentality of many Purebloods in that their blood shouldn’t be mixed with less pure blood, but he had thought Malfoy to know better than to believe that Muggle-born mages were less. He wanted to reprimand his friend, but if he spoke now, he knew that he would only scream at him. Screaming solved nothing, thus all he could do was stare in betrayal at his more or less best friend. 

As suddenly as it came, Malfoy’s anger seemed to disappear as he realised what he had just said. Granger’s eyes filled with tears and the blonde boy opened his mouth as if to say something.

“Malfoy you dog!” Ron Weasley was suddenly next to Harry, as he was too small to be stopped by the larger students. Harry had no idea when the redhead had gotten there, but his eyes burnt with fury as he aimed his broken wand at Malfoy, trying to cast a curse upon him. Malfoy flinched back but to everyone’s surprise, Weasley’s wand exploded, sending him flying back onto the arena. 

The Weasley twins pushed past the crowd and over to their brother, while Granger turned from Malfoy and ran away, followed by the laughter from some of the Slytherin students. Neville didn’t even look at Harry as he ran after her, but he did take the time to give Malfoy a look which seemed to make the blonde shiver. 

“Ron. Ron, are you alright?” One of the twins helped him to sit up. 

“Say something. What’s the name of your fat rat?” The other implored. 

“Hrk.” The red haired boy responded by opening his mouth and throwing up a big, disgusting slug. The slug caused most of the Slytherin students to laugh harder, while the Gryffindor students seemed disgusted and worried. 

“Ah, slug hex.” 

“Nasty.” The twins concluded. 

Harry gave Malfoy a sharp look, then turned to the Weasleys. “The gamekeeper Hagrid’s hut isn’t far from here… He might be able to help, let’s take him there.” 

Ron Weasley seemed about to object, but instead he threw up another slug, causing his brothers to decide what was the best course of action for him. They lifted him up and half helped, half carried him away towards the hut. Harry didn’t look back towards his friend, but instead followed the redheads, while trying very hard not to step on any of Ron Weasley’s slugs.

Harry knocked on the door and was greeted by the giant gamekeeper. “Oh, another Slytherin, welcome h- oh… oh that is a slug hex, isn’t it?” Hagrid was about to say something else when he spotted the Weasleys. “Come in, come in.” The twins lifted their brother into the hut. 

“Sorry to bother.” They said as one. 

Crabbe and Goyle looked up from the table. Goyle had Fang laying in his lap, more likely than not trying to beg for some table scraps, as the two boys and Hagrid seemed to have been in the middle of a tea party. They looked unsure until Harry stepped in after the Gryffindors, causing both Slytherins to relax once more. 

“Bucket, bucket…” Hagrid found what he was looking for, and handed a gigantic to the youngest Weasley, sitting him down in a corner. “Better to just let it all up, trying to stop it or hold it back will be more painful.” 

Ron Weasley responded by quickly dipping his head into the bucket, accompanied with a sound which was probably the sound of a slug hitting the bottom of the bucket. That was a sound Harry never wanted to hear again. He shuddered and walked over to his friends, reaching out to pet the big hunting dog.

“Hi, remember me?” Harry cooed softly at Fang, who sniffed the boy’s face, concluding that he was worthy of kisses. Thus Harry’s face was licked. 

“Now, what is going on here?” Hagrid sat back down on his chair, looking over at the twins for answers. “Who hexed him?” 

“He did.” 

“He was trying to hex someone though.”

“His wand is broken, so he hit himself.” 

“Are those cookies?” 

“May we have some?” 

In quick succession, the twins explained the situation. Hagrid handed them the plate of giant cookies, both took one each and began eating, seemingly undisturbed by the noises their brother was making. Harry felt a little ill to just be watching them. He would never have been able to eat while someone was throwing up that close to him. Crabbe and Goyle looked at them like they were insane. 

“Well, who was he trying to hex?” Hagrid glanced at the boy, who was more bucket than a person from the angle he was sitting in. 

“Malfoy.” The twins spoke as one. 

“Those two are always at each other’s throats.” Crabbe told Hagrid, who nodded understandingly. 

“This time, Malfoy really did step over the line though.” Harry let go of Fang’s slobbering face, dried his hands off on his clothing, and sat down upon an upturned box which once had contained potatoes. “Usually, they are fighting over something stupid, but Malfoy called Granger…” He swallowed, he couldn’t bring himself to repeat it. 

“He called her a Mudblood.” One of the Weasley twins made a face at the word, as if it made him feel ill to say it. 

Hagrid, Crabbe and Goyle gasped as one. 

“He did not!” Goyle stared at Harry, as if the son of a werewolf could tell him that the Weasley twin was lying. 

Harry sighed, resting his head in his hands with a sad look on his face. His expression quite resembled that of Fang’s, who sat next to him in hopes of more cuddles and pets. “He did… Granger accused him into buying his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team and he just… snapped at her. He did look like he regretted what he said afterwards but… That just isn’t an alright thing to say, whatever the reason.” 

“What do you mean with buying his way onto the team?” Crabbe looked even more confused. 

“Malfoy’s dad bought everyone Slytherin Quidditch member a brand new Nimbus 2001 in exchange for them letting his son play.” One of the Weasley twins responded. He was standing to the left, so Harry decided to think of him as Left Weasley. 

“Quidditch is all about the speed of your broom, with them having brooms like that, nobody else will really be able to keep up, of course Flint said yes. He doesn’t care what it takes as long as he wins.” Right Weasley filled in. 

“Malfoy isn’t like that.” Harry interrupted before the twins turned the accusation around to make it the younger Malfoy’s fault. “He was really proud to be trying out for the team, I have seen him fly under pressure. He is good. I don’t know that much about Quidditch but even I can see that he has worked hard to be the confident, skilled flier that he is. He has been broken up about something for weeks now, he must have been feeling really bad about his father buying him a place on the team when he really wanted to win it for himself.” 

“He’s a Malfoy.” Ron Weasley’s voice sounded thick and slow, it was clear that he was struggling to speak. “He doesn’t care how he gets something, as long as he gets it.” 

“Shut up!” Harry didn’t mean to scream, but when the red haired boy accused his friend of being someone he was not, Harry lost his temper. He quickly realised that he had screamed, and closed his eyes to calm down. “Forgive me, that was rude. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Both Left and Right Weasley looked at him with surprise, they seemed rather impressed that he had apologised so quickly for his words, rather than pretended that he did nothing wrong. They had of course never spent time with Harry, thus seeing him as an average Slytherin student. In this context, meaning an unpleasant and selfish person who thought himself better than others. Harry was clearly not that. 

“I know that you don’t like Malfoy, and he doesn’t like you. That is fine with me, whatever differences you have, or think that you do, it’s for you to solve. I am not allowing Malfoy to speak badly of you in front of me, and I’m most definitely not letting you speak badly of him in front of me. Malfoy should not have used that word, and I am going to talk to him about it, maybe even report it to Professor Snape. But he is serious about Quidditch, just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean that you have the right to say that he isn’t.” 

Ron Weasley scoffed. “You’re not going to report it to Snape. You’re a Slytherin, you have no backbone. You’d never sell one of your own out.” 

“I’d appreciate it if you stop talking about things you don’t know. You keep on accusing people almost randomly and without proof. You can report it to your Head of the House, and you leave me to do whatever I please.” Harry stood up and patted Fang on the head. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. Good day.” He nodded at Hagrid and stomped off towards the door. 

Nobody stopped him, thus Harry headed off towards the Forbidden Forest. He didn’t enter it, but walked alongside it, feeling himself fuming with emotions still. It wasn’t pleasant, no matter how much he attempted to calm down or think of other things, he ended up circling around in his head and making himself all the more anxious. 

“Ugh!” Harry kicked a tree in frustration, only to quickly feel bad about it. He apologised to the tree, only to reach out and pat it. He then found himself to be quite so silly, thus sitting down with his back against the tree, facing the school. 

Perhaps he understood his dad a little better now. He knew that part of being a werewolf was wrestling with many impulses while rejecting the ones which clearly weren’t acceptable for the moment. Harry had never before felt the impulse to break something in order to make himself feel less broken. He curled together, hiding his face against his legs. He could still hear Malfoy’s voice in his head, repeating the word ‘Mudblood.’ Harry wanted Malfoy to be better than that, he wanted him to be more than those Pureblood fanatics. 

Malfoy had seemed the very image of a Pureblood when they had first met. He had been stuck up, full of himself, unreasonable, childish, and had been using fancy words for the sake of his superiority complex. He was constantly caring more about image and glory than he was about details and still… Malfoy was a very gentle, insecure person. Harry thought of the way the boy’s eyes lit up when he talked about Quidditch, how he defended Harry on principle, how he had saved him from Lockhart and how confessing to Harry that he didn’t dare let his father know about their friendship had almost made the boy cry. 

Harry really did like Malfoy as a friend. They had fun together, and he had believed that whatever beliefs about blood which Malfoy held were just reserved for his own marriage, mostly because he hadn’t acted out or truly tried to hurt Granger before, which Harry would have assumed an actual Pureblood fanatic would have. It wasn’t that he had used the word Mudblood that was the problem, but rather it almost worked as a confession of using blood as a leverage over others, which proved that Malfoy really must believe in those ideas about blood. The son of a werewolf knew that for someone who had those ideas about blood, his dad would be considered filthy or wrong. It felt like he was breaking apart to think that someone who meant so much to him would consider his most beloved dad as disgusting. How could Harry possibly be comfortable with being around a person like that? 

“Lupin.” 

He raised his head to find the Head of his House stand before him, looking quite displeased. Then again, Professor Snape usually did, so the expression didn’t appear alien on his face. What was alien was seeing the Potions Master in daylight, standing on the green grass with the blue sky behind him and the sun shining down upon his black hair. The sunlight gave his hair a strange shine which almost made it seem oily. It was but a trick of the light, causing Harry to quickly shake that thought away. 

“Professor? What are you doing out here?” Harry couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

“I was called about a Quidditch commotion.” The man sighed, looking very much like he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Me and Professor McGonagall were. Many students seem to have run in every direction and now I have the displeasure of going out of my way to find you, as to not have you lost in the Forest.” 

Harry blinked. “I’m sorry for asking, but does that mean that I have been gone long?”

The man sighed once more. “Not for hours, but the older students were worried. As the Head of your House, it is part of my duty to look after you children. Now return to the castle, you shouldn’t dwell close to the Forbidden Forest alone.” Professor Snape turned around, sweeping away with his long black robes. Harry followed, brushing the dirt off his own robes as he trailed behind the man. 

Harry recalled what Weasley had said about reporting Malfoy to Snape, so he hesitantly spoke up. “About Malfoy… He said something very bad to Ms. Granger earlier. I… It felt really bad hearing it, and I don’t know what I should do about it.” He didn’t mean to confess to the Professor, but he felt the need to talk to an adult about his problem, rather than have it choke all other thoughts in his head. Harry had been raised with the knowledge that he should express his worries to adults, as they might have more experience in life and good advice for him. It didn’t mean they always did, of course, but it was worth a try.

“Yes, Lupin. His words have been reported and Malfoy will have detention tonight. As will Weasley, for trying to cast a curse on him.” The Potions Master didn’t turn towards him as he spoke. 

“I… I think that is good. I think they both deserve it but… That doesn’t help me figure out what I should do. I want to forgive Malfoy for what he said, but it’s such a terrible thing to say and I… I don’t know if I should. If I can.” He swallowed, feeling teary eyed from the conversation. 

Something in Snape’s voice changed, Harry couldn’t identify what it was, but something was definitely different. “Sometimes… A cornered person may say things which they regret. Sometimes, those things are so very unforgivable that they cannot ever be forgiven or taken back. There is no universal template for what is forgivable and what is unforgivable when it comes to words. Each person must construct that for themselves. Yet…” He stopped, as if tasting the words before he uttered them. “I can assure you that Malfoy did regret calling Ms. Granger that word. Perhaps you should hear his apology before you decide for him to be…” Snape stopped speaking in search for the right words. “Irredeemably evil.” 

Harry looked at the Potion Professor’s back, wondering what kind of expression he was making. Harry got the impression that it was a sad or pained one. He couldn’t help but wonder if Snape himself had made a similar mistake to Malfoy or if he was simply that aware of the power which words held. 

“And… what if I… Granger won’t forgive me if I forgive him? What do I do if I lose my friend for the sake of another friend?” Harry asked in a small voice, staring down at his ragged, old shoes. 

“Feelings are fickle.” The man responded. “There are some points in life where you have to make choices, where there is no place to not choose a side. Still, if you go into every situation expecting to have to choose a side, you will deprive yourself of that choice. In turn, staying neutral has its perks, and its consequences.” 

Harry sighed, feeling nonetheless wiser despite understanding what the Potions Master was probably trying to tell him. 

“Lupin.” Snape called for his attention as they reached the castle, now stopping to look down at him with a complicated expression which Harry couldn’t quite connect to any one emotion. “The only thing you can do is listen to both sides and try to make an informed decision. You don’t have the full picture yet, do not worry about the consequences of failure before you’ve taken the first step. No matter your choices, you will end up with a lifetime worth of regret, no matter how hard you try to think things through. You might as well choose what you want most for the moment, and let the future reveal if that choice was the right one to make.” He opened the door for Harry, showing him inside. 

As the man tried to leave, Harry carefully spoke up. “Do you have… a lot of regrets, Professor?” 

The Potions Master stopped to look down on him once more, this time, his face was so expressionless that Harry took a step back out of surprise and fear. He had never seen such an empty expression before. “Ask me again and you shall have detention for a week, Lupin. Now off.” He waved his hand as if the boy was but an irritating fly. His expression returned to normal as Harry quickly nodded and hurried off to try and find Blaise. 

He really, really needed to hug someone. 


	7. Chapter 6 - in which Harry Lupin explores the boundaries of forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Granger, please become Minister of Magic.” Harry beamed at her. “You’d save the Wizarding World from itself if you did.” 
> 
> She blushed fiercely at his words. “No, no… what are you saying, please!” She waved her hands in front of her, as if to chase away Harry’s compliment. 

Malfoy became very hard to approach after his detention. Harry tried to speak with him alone but every time he did, Malfoy looked close to tears. Thus, Harry decided to give him some time. The more time that passed, the easier it felt to simply forget the whole incident and act like nothing had happened. Harry worried that he was going to allow himself to ignore his principles for the sake of not making his friend uncomfortable.

Someone who hadn’t forgotten was Granger. Her entire House seemed to have gone together for the sake of protecting her after Malfoy’s assault. She seemed to be more protected and cared for than ever, which was very sweet, but it did make it very hard for Harry to approach her as a Slytherin student. Harry very much wanted to talk to her but he was continuously chased away by the rest of the class. The Gryffindor girls seemed to almost fuss over her, and were continuously staying around her like a protective wall of flesh. It seemed even Neville had a little hard approaching her due to all the attention she was getting. 

For a short while, it seemed like Granger did enjoy the attention, but Harry quickly noticed that the security it provided quickly became a burden to the girl. She seemed suffocated by the constant attention, and looked more than ready to try and run away from it. 

Until one day when she collided head first with Harry as he walked back towards his common room after visiting the library, actually having run away from the group which simply wouldn’t leave her alone. 

“Ohmh!” Granger’s head collided with his chest, pushing most air out of his lungs in one swift blow. “I’m sorry!” She squeaked, looking up at him. 

As she recognised him as Harry Lupin, she grabbed his hand and pulled him behind a big statue which conveniently stood right next to them. She motioned for him to be quiet as the sound of a large group approaching reached their ears. Harry waited until the Gryffindor girl signed for him that the coast was clear, them both to exit together. The girl glanced from side to side, nervously trying to locate if someone else was coming.

“Are you… running away?” Harry couldn’t help but smile slightly at the absurdity of the situation. 

“No!” Her response was swift, but she quickly looked guilty instead of determined. “A little… I feel like they are suffocating me.” She sighed, walking over to the other end of the corridor, looking through the window and out over the courtyard. Harry could vaguely make out her expression as her face was reflected in said window. She seemed conflicted, her expression one of bother and loneliness. 

“At first… It felt good. I felt safe and as if they did care about me but now… all of that feels rather false.” She sighed and rested her head in her hands, hiding from her own reflection and Harry. “I feel like some half-baked celebrity who isn’t allowed to go where I want or do what I want without being pulled in another direction. I’m not scared of Malfoy, I’m not scared of you Slytherins.” 

She turned towards Harry, her eyes honest and somewhat desperate. “I was really hurt by what he said but that doesn’t mean that I have to be coddled like a baby. They treat me like I’m some frail flower who will break anytime someone breathes on me. They never cared about me before, or befriended me when I was lonely. Now, they are trying to act like they always cared.” She rolled her eyes and then sighed, slowly admitting something more. “And I’m being told how to appear more girly.” She huffed with emotion, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know that I’m not the most girly but… I don’t want to put weird stuff on my lips, or paint my nails, or try to force my hair to be flat. That’s just… not me. I don’t like the person they are trying to make me.” 

Harry came to stand next to her, smiling carefully at her. “I think you make a perfect girl just the way you are.” 

She blushed at his words, curling together slightly as if he had praised her far too much. “T-thank you. I am aware that I have flaws bu-” 

“You don’t have flaws.” Harry assured her. “Whatever you dislike about yourself aren’t flaws, they are just there. You don’t have to like them, but you shouldn’t lower your value for the sake of something people around you decided wasn't worthy by some stranger’s standard of beauty.” 

The girl smiled at him, before she carefully stepped in to hug him. He returned it, feeling immensely proud over having gained the right to hug her. “I missed you.” Granger separated herself from him. 

“Missed you too.” He let go of her as she pulled back, the two friends smiling at one another. 

She sighed. “How is… Malfoy?” Whatever Harry might have expected her to ask, it was not about his misguided, blonde friend. 

“I think that… he is ashamed. He doesn’t want to talk to or be alone with me. I think that he is regretting it, but he doesn’t really know how to actually handle regretting something.” Harry leaned against the wall, shrugging as he spoke. “I’m trying to give him some time. I think that…” He glanced at her face. “I think that I can make him apologise, and I think that he would mean it when he does.” 

“You mean if he does.” She corrected him, causing Harry to nod. 

“Yeah… If. Still, I have talked to him about blood before, and his relationship to the concept of blood. He made it seem like it was important to him, yes, but only in regards to his own bloodline. I know it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want to believe that he truly cares that much about blood.” Harry sighed, looking up at the ceiling with a distant look on his face. 

“Would that opinion mean that… well, that you would be worth less to him?” The witch asked carefully, causing Harry to nod. 

“I’m pretty sure he’d consider me filthy if he really did believe in those ideas.” The son of a werewolf admitted, feeling his voice turn thicker with his words. He didn’t feel like he was about to cry, but Granger apparently thought so. 

“I’m sorry.” She patted his arm, carefully trying to comfort him. 

“No I’m… You are going through a little worse than me.” Harry took off his glasses to rub his eyes. 

“I don’t believe in measuring pain.” Granger smiled at him, a rather secure smile which hinted on her feeling a little more in her right element. “I have been called a lot of things, by a lot of different people. This isn’t even the first time I’m called a… You know.” She looked down at her shoes as she spoke, absently moving her left shoe back and forth. “I know that isn’t alright, and it isn’t something I should have gotten used to, and I am not saying that I am accepting it all. I was still hurt, and I am still hurt, but I also know that Malfoy’s opinion doesn’t actually matter in my life. I guess it only hurt so much because I was… I guess he was sort of… not bad to be around. He and Weasley are always fighting, I thought that he was rather frightening, childish and uncomfortable to be around.” 

“Then, last year. He was actually rather capable. It was a comfort to have him down there, and he was even rather fun to speak to about books.” She didn’t mention the trials for the Philosopher's Stone by name, as someone might be listening in. “I think… I dared hoping that he was better than that. Yet it seemed that he wasn’t. That is what hurt.” 

Harry looked at her, wrestling with many responses at once. He finally settled on one. “I wasn’t… trying to compare our pain. Thank you for correcting me though.” The green eyed boy sighed, absently playing with his own fingers. “I also think it hurts so much because I expected better from him. Part of me wants to just let it slip, have this whole thing just be… forgotten. Yet if I let this slip now, what kind of things might I let slip in the future?”

“I understand what you mean.” She assured him, nodding at his words. “If Malfoy apologises properly, I will forgive him. That doesn’t mean that I will feel comfortable or safe around him right away, but I think I will forgive him.” She stood up from leaning against the wall. “There is this quote by an author I read, saying ‘Forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them more.’” She chuckled. “Not that he is my enemy, but you know.” 

“You… will?” Harry couldn’t help but feel a little surprised over her words. He had expected her to be a lot more firm in what was unforgivable and not. 

The Gryffindor girl nodded. “I think that sometimes, unforgivable things are said because of very stressful situations, or circumstances which leads a person to act out without really intending to. If we only categorized things by looking at the action, and not the circumstances surrounding the action, we wouldn’t need systems or courts of law. I want an explanation, I want him to apologise, and if that is too much to ask, I don’t think I can forgive him. Still, if he can, I don’t think it would be right to consider his words unforgivable.” 

“Granger, please become Minister of Magic.” Harry beamed at her. “You’d save the Wizarding World from itself if you did.” 

She blushed fiercely at his words. “No, no… what are you saying, please!” She waved her hands in front of her, as if to chase away Harry’s compliment. 

He grinned at her. “Hey, something else I’ve been thinking about?” 

“Mm?” She peeked at him through her messy hair, suddenly looking a little nervous. 

“May I call you by your name? I feel like we’re close enough that that would be more comfortable than to always call you Granger.” 

Her face lit up with excitement and happiness, and she nodded so quickly and much that she sent her curls flying all around her. “I’d like that!” She beamed at him. “And I’ll call you Harry?” 

“Please do, Hermione.” 

The two of them beamed at one another, happy to have someone so trusted use their very own name to refer to them. Harry truly felt like he had a friend in Hermione, and it made him very happy. 

Malfoy still didn’t seem ready to talk, so Harry opted for leaving him alone a little longer. He made certain to himself that he wasn’t running from a confrontation, but actually planned his steps around how fragile he knew his friend to be. The first Quidditch game of the year was coming up, being Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and everyone seemed to be whispering about the Slytherin brooms being unfair. Flint didn’t seem to care in the least and most other of their other players only shrugged the attention off. Yet Malfoy seemed to become smaller for every day which the whispers assaulted him. To someone who didn’t know him, he likely looked every bit as scheming and proud like they imagined him to be, but Harry saw his friend at far more points than during breakfast, lunch and dinner. He could see that Malfoy was struggling, even if he was trying his best to make sure nobody noticed. 

The only person which Malfoy seemed comfortable to be around at the moment was Blaise. He used Blaise as a shield to the world, talking mostly to him about things which didn’t matter but which occupied the mind. Harry did spend time around the two of them, and he still talked to Malfoy, but there was a tension between them, as if the blonde boy was always tempted to run away. It made Harry sad to think that Malfoy was that uncomfortable around him, so he mostly stayed with Crabbe and Goyle, trying to be patient with Malfoy. 

Blaise was annoyed to be the safety pillar, but he also seemed to agree with Harry that it wasn’t worth pushing Malfoy too hard right now. He humored his friend, spending time with him and spoke with him, yet Harry caught Blaise looking at him with eyes which seemed to say ‘make up already.’ He supposed that Blaise just really wasn’t all that comfortable being involved and limited by a two sided fight which he really had nothing to do with. 

Somehow, Malfoy looked even paler next to Blaise, the absolute contrast between the two boys’ features leaving Harry reminded of when he first met the boy at the train. He wondered if he could have actually believed he would come to care this much for the insecure pureblood. Actually, a lot had changed in just the time which had been. Looking at the boy now, Malfoy did feel very different from the boy he had met that day. The son of a werewolf found himself patiently waiting for the other, still hoping for the other to come around and prove himself. 

Crabbe and Goyle spent a lot of time with Pansy Parkinson. The girl herself seemed to have noticed Malfoy’s weakness and need for comfort, and she was seeking to give comfort in a rather unhealthy type of way. Whenever she had the chance, she would constantly bring up things to praise the blonde wizard for, more or less sucking up to him in a way which she must have thought seemed encouraging. In the beginning, it seemed that Malfoy appreciated her, but his appreciation turned her behavior into constant confirming of his every single fault, and it clearly got tiring after a while, as Malfoy finally asked her to stop. 

Still, she mostly stayed with Crabbe, who seemed to have chosen her as his new pet project. She was clearly lonely and vicious, and the big boy seemed to be doing his best to be friendly with her. Him, Goyle and Parkinson had become friends, and they talked about a lot of things together. At first, the girl seemed to be seeking to wound with everything she said, but after spending more time with the two Slytherin boys, she became easier to be around. She could even talk about things she liked without feeling the need to insult someone else while doing it. Overall, Harry identified her as a very broken person, who truly believed that the world was out to get her. Her friendship with Crabbe and Goyle seemed to help her ever so slightly, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t feel threatened outside of their friend circle. 

Crabbe’s behavior towards Malfoy confused Harry. It was not that he had expected anything in particular from him, but it was a surprise to learn that Crabbe treated Malfoy like a misbehaving child. He was not coddling him or being careful around him, but had opted to ignore him until he apologised to Hermione. He seemed every bit the stern authority figure towards Malfoy, who was stubbornly staying away from Crabbe in return. 

Goyle was the person who was the most conflicted with the whole scenario. He ended up sitting with Harry a lot, but he didn’t speak too much of what was happening. When Harry finally asked him if he wanted to talk about something, he confessed to not really knowing what he was supposed to think or feel. He didn’t really want to be involved, and would rather everything go back to normal soon. He looked so distressed when he said it that Harry didn’t have the heart to do anything but promise that he would try and talk with Malfoy soon. 

The day before the Quidditch game, Malfoy didn’t go back to the common room after dinner. Harry saw him eat and then leave, turning around the corner and hurried away in the opposite direction. He hesitated, but then stood up and hurried after him. He didn’t mean to follow him for so long, but Malfoy moved quickly, causing Harry to catch up to him only when he stopped. 

Malfoy was standing at the top of one of the towers, looking out over the dark Quidditch arena. He jumped when he heard Harry come up the stairs, and turned to face him. The two boys looked at one another, Malfoy looking lost, guilty, hurt and frightened, and Harry facing him with worry and kindness. 

“I didn’t… come to chase you down.” Harry spoke first. “You don’t have to worry about anything, I… I just wanted to know that you are alright.” 

Malfoy opened his mouth, and then closed it, moving his arms up to hug himself as his own expression turned reluctant. “The game is tomorrow… I felt like I needed to see the arena. Not that I’m nervous or anything but I… I just felt like I had to.”

Harry carefully joined him by the tower’s railing, looking out at the arena as well. “I think you will do well tomorrow. I’ll be there, cheering for you.” He tried to be encouraging but by the way Malfoy looked at him, he might just be hurting him with his kindness. 

“Lupin, I-!” The blonde suddenly spoke with conviction, his expression turning desperate. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it… I wanted to hurt her, I didn’t want her to think that I would buy my way into the team or demand that I quit it because it’s the right thing to do. I wanted her to be silent before she hurt me or made fun of me in front of both the entire teams.” He spoke fast, almost panicky. “I used to think like that, I used to believe that Mud- uh, Muggle-borns were less mages than the rest of us, I wanted to believe that magic lies in the blood but… but…” He stopped to breathe, turning his face away from Harry to hide his expression. 

“...When I look at Granger and Longbottom, how could that possibly be true?” Malfoy more or less whimpered out. “Longbottom can barely do anything, he is practically a squib! His blood doesn’t make him more than what he is. And Granger, she’s… she’s like that, able to do magic as if it is as easy as breathing to her. Two years ago, she didn’t even know that the Wizarding World existed… I’ve looked and looked and searched for those stupid academic sources… and there is no logical way that blood makes you more or less of a mage!” 

Harry carefully walked up behind him, and gave his friend a hug from behind. Malfoy flinched and hiccuped, before he raised his hands to hide his face, breaking down crying. Harry stood still, holding him as he sobbed into his hands, as the cold October wind hit against the tower, making their robes and hair fly around them, as if mimicking the storm of emotions inside Malfoy’s heart. 

It seemed that the Pureblood wizard had been wrestling with a lot more than just knowing that he made a mistake. It seemed that he had gone out of his way to try and prove to himself that he had been right in demeaning Hermione Granger for her blood, but had instead proven that a very big part of his core beliefs was faulty. In seeking to justify his own actions, he had instead disproven what he had taken for granted. Malfoy was just far too involved with both Hermione and Neville after last year, and even now. Perhaps if he had never gotten to know them, he could have lied to himself. Harry knew a lot of people kept on believing lies, by simply avoiding and ignoring all the evidence against the lie. There was little wonder that he had been so very upset and messed up after that, especially with no one to talk to about it. Blaise would likely have reprimanded him for thinking that blood was that powerful in the first place, and Crabbe and Goyle wouldn’t likely have understood the conflict. 

Harry felt so very relieved as he hugged his crying friend. The fear of being rejected or having to reject Malfoy because of different ideologies had been so very frightening to him. Now, as he was holding the other, it felt to him that he world had just aligned itself into place once again, and nothing hurt. His head didn’t hurt, his chest didn’t hurt, he was no longer worried or scared, but filled with pride over Malfoy and his realisations. All those negative emotions which had been eating him alive had been removed, he knew that Malfoy still had to apologise to Hermione, but she could wait. Right now, at this moment, Malfoy was more important. He was evidently hurting a lot.

“I’m… I’m really proud of you.” Harry struggled to find words for just how Malfoy made him feel. “Really, really proud.” 

The boy in his arms sniffed, trying to rub his tears away. “I feel like… Like I’ve been lied to my entire life.” He began to speak more controlled now, as the storm of emotions had lessened within him. “I feel like I've been told to believe something which was so blatantly a lie that it almost makes me feel… ill that I believed it so blindly.” He took a few deeper breaths and turned towards Harry, his eyes wet and filled with emotion. “I feel… mad at myself, at my father, at the whole Wizarding World… And I don’t… I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

“You don’t have to do anything with yourself.” Harry searched his pockets for a handkerchief to hand to his friend. He found one, which Malfoy accepted with a thankful sob. “The important thing now is that you apologise to Gr-Hermione. She deserves that, and she deserves an explanation. We don’t have to tell everyone that you’ve changed your beliefs, and we don’t have to make any big announcements or rejections. You can work on those things later. For now, it is enough that you know that you have been wrong, and that you try to be better. You don’t have to blame yourself for having been wrong either. You changing is more than enough.” 

Malfoy sniffed, then smiled at him. Harry thought to himself that he had never seen such an honest smile before. “T-thank you, Lupin…” 

Harry smiled back. “Thank you for not denying what you’ve learnt.” 

Malfoy seemed like he considered saying something else, but before he could make up his mind, the Grand Clock struck eight, signalling that they should hurry on back to their common room. The blonde held the handkerchief back to Harry but quickly changed his mind and put it in his pocket. As he did, the son of a werewolf noticed that he was still wearing the snake cufflinks. It hit him that despite their struggles, Malfoy still hadn’t taken them off. 

On their way back, Harry asked Malfoy about his upcoming Quidditch game, and if he had any strategy for how he wanted to play. He made certain to not ask about the brooms or the team, as he understood well that it was one of the sources of Malfoy’s great discomfort, but instead let his friend talk about something he liked to make him feel better. 

They hurried through an empty corridor, speaking in low voices to one another while trying to get back to their common room as quickly as possible. Malfoy was in the middle of saying something when another voice overpowered him. Harry froze dead in his tracks, it felt it all around him, as if the words were vibrating through the walls, the ceiling and the floor below his feet. As if the words penetrated and danced around him like a physical entity. 

_“Hungry… I’m so… Hungry.”_

Harry spun around, feeling as if the room was swaying, as if there was an entity pressing itself all around him, existing just beyond the limits of what his eyes could see. Panic rose in his chest as the voice continued to whisper, further away now, but still audible. 

_“I have to… eat. I have to eat. Give me… Let me feast.”_

“Lupin?” Malfoy looked back at Harry’s panicked expression, gently touching his shoulder to try and get his attention. 

“Did you hear that?” Harry didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he could feel the fear tear into his stomach with ice cold claws, his heart beating too fast for comfort. 

“Hear what…?” Malfoy pulled back, clearly not comfortable with the forcefulness behind Harry’s words. 

“The voice… It… It was everywhere… You heard nothing?” Harry walked up to one of the walls, touching it with a confused expression on his face. “It felt… so close.” 

The other boy looked worried. “No, I just heard the flushing of the pipes.” He slowly shook his head. “Are you sure you have gotten enough rest recently? Maybe we should just hurry back and h-” 

“I see you!” 

Malfoy was interrupted by Filch’s loud scream, as he came hobbling towards them with his lantern raised high and his expression a twisted, euphoric look of delight. Both boys jumped, turning towards him. 

“Ohoho… that is detention for you, you sneaky snaking children you.” He almost sang as he grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him away from the wall, as if Harry had been trying to escape from him by becoming part of the wall decor. By the man’s feet, his horrible cat stroked herself against the man’s legs, purring encouragingly at him. 

“Mr. Filch, did you hear a voice just now?” Harry tried, pulling his arm back from the man’s grip. 

“Are you being funny with me? The only voices I heard were yours.” Filch’s eyes turned thinner with suspicion. “Or is there another one hiding from us? Are you saying we let one get away?” He looked at his cat. “Go search, my dear, I’m taking these two to get detention.” 

The cat mewled softly and disappeared into the shadows, as the man grabbed both Harry and Malfoy by their arms, dragging them off to someone who had the authority to give them detention. Harry continuously looked around, listening for that sinister voice, but he didn’t hear it again. Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any calmer. 


	8. Chapter 7 - in which She is still hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was silence for a while until Neville spoke up. 
> 
> “I can’t believe that me being useless at magic is what made you change your mind about Purebloods…” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s somehow the funniest and saddest thing which my lacking abilities have ever caused.”

Of all the people to take them to, Flich brought the two of them to Gilderoy Lockhart. The man straightened his hair and then knocked on the door, waiting until the loud, charismatic voice of the famous author invited them all inside. 

The three found the man sitting by his desk, surrounded by copies of his own books, and a collection of fan mail. He was beaming at them, every bit as put together and full of energy as he was in the morning. “Argus, my good man, how well to see you again.” Lockhart cheered. “What have these students do- Oh! Mr Po-Lupin. Mr. Lupin and Mr. Malfoy.” He hurriedly got to his feet, waiting for the little group to come up to him. “Whatever trouble has these two caused.”

“Found them out after the curfew, sir.” Filch nodded, causing Harry to suspect that Filch was a fan. After all, he had never heard Filch call anyone sir. “Figured you could make them behave better. I believe them to be worthy of detention, sir.” 

“Indeed!” Lockhart boomed. “Rules and order is one of the core principles of our society, broken rules are an insult to the authority who created them, namely the Headmaster. We cannot have such disrespect. Luckily, I have just the job for you two.” He turned towards the two boys while Filch nodded approvingly of his wisdom. “Mr. Malfoy, you grab this duster here and see over my books, and you, Mr. Lupin. Harry, can I call you Harry?” 

“No.” Harry responded as he was captured by an arm around his shoulder, the golden smile leading him to sit down with him by the desk. He quickly wriggled himself away from the man’s grip after being seated. 

“Mr. Lupin shall help me with this fanmail. That will be all, Argus, I look forward to our tea tomorrow!” He waved the janitor off, causing Filch to scurry off with a happy look on his face. Almost as soon as Filch had closed the door and his footsteps had disappeared off, Lockhart’s smile died on his lips and he shook his head. “Highly unpleasant man. Yet he is a fan, and I cannot let a fan down. I suppose I shall just have to endure him and then go back to my more pleasant admirers.” 

Harry didn’t like Filch very much, but the way Lockhart just admitted to acting around the man for the sake of fame made him feel ever so disgusted. As if he needed any more reason to not feel comfortable around the man. He and Malfoy exchanged looks as the blonde wizard picked up the bright green duster with a displeased look on his face. 

“Now boys, I won’t keep you long. You haven’t broken that important of a rule after all, and just by a few minutes.” Lockhart continued as he sat down in the chair next to Harry’s. 

“Didn’t you just say that it was disrespectful towards Professor Dumbledore to break rules?” Harry muttered as some letters were pushed his way. 

“Oh please, my young friend. Filch doesn’t have to know, the Headmaster doesn’t have to know either. Rules should only be respected when there is a consequence for disobeying them.” The man looked over at Malfoy, who didn’t seem to have a clue what to do with the duster. The blonde boy was turning the cleaning tool over in his hands and then put it on top of one of the book piles, waiting to see if it did anything. It didn’t. 

“You’re supposed to sweep with it, Mr. Malfoy.” The golden smile encouraged him, showing the boy the movement he was supposed to use to clean the books. Malfoy frowned and tried again, sweeping away from himself as to not get the dust on his robes.

Lockhart continued speaking,“have you been crying, pray tell?” 

“N-no.” He quickly turned his back to the man upon being questioned. 

“Aah, love. I understand. Why, even I have been infatuated once or twice!” The man called out, as if he was acting a part in a play, sweeping out with his hand in a dramatic gesture. “Do not let your heart be broken, young Malfoy, fight for the love of your desired one!” 

For the rest of the hour, Lockhart proceeded to tell them both about love and relationships, only giving them the most surface level, useless advice which Harry had ever heard. It was all connected to ideas of fantasy, and how Lockhart imagined that people wanted their love to be. Everything boiled down to fighting and not giving up, and to do stupid, foolish things for the sake of winning someone’s heart rather than respecting their wishes and needs. 

When Harry and Malfoy finally got to leave, Harry was rubbing his temples from the idiocy of the man’s advice. At the very least it had served to distract him from the fear which that voice had created within him.

Malfoy groaned when they were far enough that Lockhart couldn’t hear him. “If I ever become as obsessively infatuated with someone as to think that standing outside their window and singing is even remotely acceptable, do me a favor and lock me into a cage until I regain my mind.” 

“I promise. I trust you will do the same for me.” Harry stretched his arms over his head, yawning. 

“It’s a promise.” His friend rubbed his own wrist, clearly not used to household work. When he noticed Harry glancing at him, his cheeks turned red. “We have a House Elf, I am not usually in charge of dusting things off…” He explained quickly, causing Harry to chuckle. Together they returned to the dorms.

“I’m eating with the team today, and then we will go warm up. I will see you all at the game later.” Malfoy beamed at his group of Slytherin friends, before he hurried over to sit with the older students, who all welcomed him.

Harry, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson sat down together to have breakfast. It didn’t take long for Blaise’s newspaper to arrive, whereas Harry got a letter from his dad. The letter didn’t say anything special, simply informing Harry of what had happened in his dad’s life and what book he was currently reading. The son of a werewolf planned on writing to his dad later that day, and he felt comparatively comfortable with the fact that nothing all that dramatic had happened lately which hadn’t more or less been solved. With the exception of the sinister voice, which Harry couldn’t help but start to doubt the existence of. Maybe he had just imagined it, a lot had happened up until the point where he had heard it. It might not have been real. 

“So you’ve finally made up, have you?” Blaise looked at Harry as he lowered the letter. “Took you long enough.” He shook his head as if to show his disapproval, but the relieved smile sent a different message. 

“I hope Malfoy apologises properly.” Crabbe nodded as he began filling his plate with food. 

“We’ll deal with it after the Quidditch game.” Harry reached for his favorite muffin, which happened to be pumpkin spiced. He loved the way everything just became pumpkin flavored on the tables the closer they got to Halloween, but he was a minority pumpkin lover in his friend group. “Right now, he really should be allowed to focus on the game, he is ready to apologise afterwards.”

“You sound sure, so it’s probably true.” Goyle smiled, picking his plate full of tiny pancakes. 

“Malfoy seems less weighed down too. It’s good.” Blaise stated from behind his newspaper. Harry read on the title page as his friend read the actual articles. 

“Are you coming to the game today, Zabini?” Crabbe asked, passing Parkinson a jar of rose jam. 

Everyone stared at him, silently pressuring him for an answer until the boy sighed. “Fine, fine… I’m coming.” 

His choice was met with a lot of cheering, causing the boy to roll his eyes and disappear behind the newspaper. Harry didn’t fail to notice that he was behaving as if slightly embarrassed. 

The game was just as intense as Harry remembered it. It was brutal, and he was not all that comfortable with watching the little more than children hit heavy balls at one another which caused more than one person to spiral towards the ground. He was very relieved that Malfoy wasn’t actually playing in the violent part of the game, rather staying to the sides or hovering above the rest of the playing field. 

The Slytherin team was clearly dominating the game with their faster brooms, but that didn’t mean that the Ravenclaws were less skilled players. They had a hard time keeping up, but their Keeper was doing decently in protecting their goal rings. 

Harry was mostly keeping his eyes on Malfoy, hoping that the blonde boy would end the game before someone got hurt. To his great relief, it didn’t take too long for Malfoy to suddenly start moving. It really was great to watch him fly. He seemed completely free from the laws of gravity, and every bit as skilled as he had when he was flying on the old broomstick during the Philosopher’s Stone trials. It was very relieving to see that it wasn’t the broom which made Malfoy the flier he was, but the actual boy himself. 

Something golden gleamed in front of Malfoy, with the Ravenclaw Seeker giving chase soon after Malfoy had started to fly. The girl on the other broom was clearly older than Malfoy and thus, she was slightly heavier and not as fast, even if Malfoy’s broom clearly gave him more speed than hers could muster. It wasn’t a surprise when the blonde boy’s fingers secured themselves around the Golden Snitch, and the game came to a halt with an overwhelming victory for Slytherin. The arena erupted into cheers as Malfoy held up the Snitch, flying around the arena with the sign of his victory held high above his head. 

Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Blaise all cheered for their friend, along with most of the arena and the rest of Malfoy’s teammates. For that moment, Malfoy was the Quidditch hero he had always dreamed of being. In that moment, everything else was forgotten in the rush of adrenaline and happiness. He had actually proven himself worthy of his position. 

It proved to be slightly harder than expected to find a time where Hermione and Malfoy had the chance to talk to one another, and for Malfoy to apologise. He had asked Harry to be there with him as he apologised, to which Harry had of course agreed to. Yet the week before the Halloween feast consisted of a collection of tests, which made it very hard for Hermione to have time for Malfoy. 

The blonde wizard was still on his Quidditch high, and didn’t seem to be coming down anytime soon, meaning that he didn’t feel especially dejected by her not being able to simply drop everything for the sake of his convenience. He was constantly talking about his first official game, with gleaming eyes and an excited voice. Harry almost thought that he would take off from the ground as he seemed to have his head that high up on clouds. It was very endearing to him, even if the rest of the group of friends seemed slightly tired of hearing the same story over and over. 

When the short test period was over, and the day of the Halloween feast had finally come, Hermione approached the group of Slytherin friends after one of their shared tests, alongside Neville. It seemed that most of her self assigned guard group had grown bored with their task, and were finally leaving her alone again. Still, whatever Gryffindors were around them as Hermione approached them seemed to glance almost threateningly at the group of Slytherins. 

Next to Harry, Malfoy tensed up upon seeing her come closer. Still, it was not the tensing up of fear but more of determination. When Harry glanced at his face, he didn’t see the face of someone who wanted to run away, but of someone who had set his mind to do something. Once again, he felt that powerful pulse of pride throb through his chest. 

“Hello Harry. Hello Malfoy,” she began, her face set into a firm expression which mimicked the blonde Slytherin in determination. “I was wondering if you’d be alright in speaking with me before the feast begins?” She aimed her question at Malfoy, who nodded in response. 

“Yes. Yes, I’d… That would be fine. Would you mind if Lupin comes along?” He glanced at the green eyed boy, but before he could motivate why he wanted Harry with him, Granger agreed. 

“I’d like for him to be there too. Neville wanted to hear what you have to say as well, I hope that is acceptable as well.” Neville nodded behind her as she spoke, he seemed to be the most nervous one out of the four of them. 

“Is there a problem here?” Crabbe’s dark voice joined in, as he, Goyle and Parkinson came to check what was happening. 

“None whatsoever.” Harry beamed at him, grabbing both Malfoy and Hermione before it could look like they were ganging up on the Gryffindors. “We’re just about to have a nice talk, solve some things, and then we will join you at the feast.” 

“Alright.” Crabbe shrugged and turned the other way, not really having anything else to say on the matter. Crabbe did seem satisfied with the response as well. Harry was very thankful for the way the other boy was dealing with the situation. Goyle hobbled along with his friend, giving Harry and Malfoy a wave as he did, while Parkinson glared at Hermione like she was a particular nasty rash. 

“I was thinking that we could talk up in one of the towers. Not all the way up in one, but we’re pretty certain to be left alone if we simply go talk in the stairs or something like that.” Harry turned around, pulling them both with him. Neville seemed a little left out but hurried after them. “This conversation has been put off for long enough.” 

“I’m glad you are excited, Harry, but please let go of my arm.” Hermione carefully pulled her arm back, causing Harry to let go of it right away. 

“I forgot, sorry!” He looked at her like an ashamed puppy. 

Hermione shook her head, smiling. “It’s alright.” 

Apologising was hard for Malfoy, but not as hard as it was to explain himself. He did good, but it did take a long time, and he shifted from being very emotionally vulnerable to almost seeming aggressive. They had to take a few breaks in his telling because it was that hard for him. Confessing all these things to his friend and trusted ally Harry Lupin was far easier than admitting to the person he had hurt that she and her best friend had effectively changed his way of looking at the world. At the end of the explanation and apology, both Hermione and Neville looked rather touched and emotional. Whatever hostility or anger they might have had seemed all forgotten, and they might have even come to understand Malfoy better as a person. 

Harry hadn’t expected it to be easy for Malfoy to talk about this, and he was ready to both help and calm the boy if he went too far in any direction. Still, he only needed to break the talk once to allow Malfoy to calm himself. In general, he believed that this was a very good experience for the boy, and he was still immensely proud of him for taking these steps towards becoming a better person, rather than hone all the anger and make himself miserable. He truly hoped that this would mean a step forward in that Malfoy would no longer deceive himself with convenient lies, rather than accepting inconvenient truths. 

“I forgive you.” Hermione responded, after having taken some time to properly breathe a few times. She carefully smiled at Malfoy, who seemed to be trying to choke himself rather than start to cry with relief. He managed somewhat in not crying, but his eyes became teary nonetheless. 

“I… I won’t do it again.” His voice was so thick with emotion that it didn’t sound like his own. “T-t-thank yo-ou.” He stuttered out. 

Harry beamed at them both. There was silence for a while until Neville spoke up. 

“I can’t believe that me being useless at magic is what made you change your mind about Purebloods…” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s somehow the funniest and saddest thing which my lacking abilities have ever caused.”

The son of a werewolf didn’t mean to, but at Neville’s words, he started laughing. His laugh became infectious, causing Neville himself to laugh. The last two joined in as well, and the stairs up the western tower quickly filled with the sound. It seemed that all of them had badly needed to laugh, badly needed to finally feel like things very solved again. Despite Hermione’s words about being careful with how much she trusted or believed in Malfoy in the future, for the moment, she wasn’t thinking of his future possible betrayals, but of the sincerity with which he had confessed to his revelations about life. When she had spoken of doubting him, she clearly hadn't been prepared for how much having her in his life had changed the boy. 

The group of four walked back towards the feast, happily chattering between themselves. Malfoy was speaking to Harry, while Hermione and Neville discussed something on the latest test which had confused the boy. Harry listened to Malfoy complain about Lockhart’s last test, which had been more about the wizard himself than it had about defending oneself against the Dark Arts, when he heard something from far away. He froze, then spun around on the spot, everything about him had been replaced with vigilance and fear. 

The voice. The sinister voice. He could hear it again, and it was coming closer. 

_“So hungry… I am hungry… Why have I been so hungry for so long…”_

“Lupin, what-” Malfoy didn’t have time to finish, as Harry held up a hand to stop him while pulling his wand out of his robes. 

“The voice… I can hear it… It’s far away but…”

_“I have to feed. I have to kill... Something bigger… Something to fill me…”_

The voice was coming closer. Once more, Harry felt like the floor began to vibrate, as the voice seemed to fill the space around him. Then it began to grow fainter, as if it was moving upwards. Yet how could it move upwards? Harry felt something rise in his chest, a mixture of panic and fear. 

“It's hungry…” He whispered, staring up in the ceiling. 

“W-what…?” Neville’s voice was trembling, his expression turning into one of fear as he grabbed Hermione’s arm. “What i-” 

Before he could finish, Harry began to run. He could still hear the voice, and he was trying to follow it. His friends looked at one another before running after him, despite not calling out to him again. 

Harry dashed into the entrance hall, then stopped dead in his tracks as he realised that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything due to the loud voices and chatter coming from the Great Hall. He looked around before picking the grand staircase and ran up it, still followed by his confused and worried friends. 

The son of a werewolf looked around, like a hunting dog searching for prey. The voice was closer again, still talking to itself. It was coming from above. 

_“I smell you… I smell you… let me feast… let me eat… let me eat you…I see you.”_

“No… no, no, no…” Harry whispered to himself, turning to run up the second staircase to the second floor. “It’s going to kill someone!” He called back to his friend as he ran. 

Part of him didn’t know why he was running towards the danger rather than from it, he couldn’t reason with himself as to why he thought that approaching the voice was the better choice. Yet… if it was going to kill, they might be able to stop it. Harry simply couldn’t accept the idea of staying passive and let someone die. 

He turned a corner and found himself suddenly standing in a big puddle of water. He had run straight into it, sending water further all over the floor. Harry’s friends caught up with him, Neville managed to step straight into the water as well, but Malfoy and Granger managed to stop before stepping into it. 

“Ah! What?” Neville whimpered. It seemed that the girls bathroom had flooded, covering most of the corridor which they were currently standing in with water. 

Harry had completely frozen in place, staring in front of him. Malfoy had noticed too, but it took Granger a second longer. In front of them hung Mrs. Norris. The cat seemed completely frozen in motion, as if she had been taxidermied and hung up, her tail acting like the hanger as it had been wrapped around a torch bracket. Her eyes were glazed over, her mouth open in a silent scream as all her fur stood on end, her very being acting as a sculpture of terror. Behind her, written in big letters in what seemed to be blood, was a sentence to her macabre display. 

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED**

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE**

“The Chamber of Secrets…” Malfoy echoed what they were all thinking, but unlike the rest of them, there was a look of understanding in Malfoy’s eyes. “The Heir.”

“What Heir?” Harry turned towards him, wrestling with the many emotions which threatened to overwhelm him. It helped a lot that Malfoy seemed to know at least something about what was going on, it kept those many feelings from consuming Harry. 

“The Heir of Slytherin?” Hermione whimpered, she had covered her mouth with her hands and was trying very hard to not look at the petrified cat. 

Malfoy nodded, looking very much like he wanted to turn and run away from the whole scene. “But that… it couldn’t… It’s not supposed to be real.” 

There was a sudden buzz all around them. The noise had been coming consistently closer but they had all failed to notice as they were so very shocked by the scene. People appeared from around the corner behind them, laughing and talking. Then, as if somebody had flipped a switch, the talking and laughter came to a halt. 

There was a scream from somewhere within the crowd. 

“She’s dead!” 

The sound all came back at once, as people began to push and yell and flood the corridor, circling the scene. The more time passed, the more people were drawn towards the commotion. The message was repeated over and over again, as Harry, Malfoy, Hermione and Neville were backed into the center, in front of said message. The screaming quickly turned accusative, and Harry could feel how the world was becoming a blur in front of him. The shapes of the world seemed to disappear, instead becoming colorful messes, which moved and fluttered. The lights seemed too bright, his head felt like it was physically being stabbed by blades of light. Yet the noises were the worst part. They stopped making sense, and increased in volume, every word became a diffuse entity of its own, fluttering outside of Harry’s reach yet burying into his skull with every syllable. 

He stood as if struck by lightning, his wand pointing at the ground as the world dissolved into pain and confusion. He wasn’t even aware of how hard he was breathing until Malfoy grabbed his hand. Harry’s world came back to focus ever so slightly, as he remembered that he wasn’t alone. 

Somewhere, someone yelled in the middle of the crowd. 

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

The crowd dissolved into screaming once more, until some teachers managed to push their ways to the front of the crowd. Among them was Filch. His angry expression shattered into one of despair and fear, as he rushed over to his cat, holding his hands out like a praying statue. His eyes had become filled with tears, and the wails which left his lips didn’t even sound human. 

“He did it!” Someone yelled from the crowd, Harry couldn’t comprehend their face as he looked upon them, but he could see that the finger was pointing at either him or Malfoy. “That Slytherin did it!” 

Filch turned, his eyes flaring with madness and sorrow so deep and twisted that Harry and Malfoy both took a step back. The hands which had been shakingly hesitating to touch his beloved cat turned into claws ready to tear the boys apart. He stepped towards them, but before he could get his hands around Harry’s neck, who had been standing the closest to him, Professor Snape stepped in between the boys and the man, grabbing Filch and held him back. 

“He has murdered my cat!” The man wailed, trying to push the Potions Master aside, but Snape didn’t let him. “He’s taking revenge upon me and my cat, you disgusting Dark Wizard! You freak! Murderer, murderer!”

His screaming was silenced by the soft voice of Headmaster, who somehow managed to overpower everyone despite not shouting. “Argus. This is Dark Magic indeed, far more powerful than that of any second year student would be able to command.” 

Professor Dumbledore walked up to the wall, covering Harry and Malfoy from most people’s views as he stopped before them. He studied the cat closely, before turning to speak to the crowd. “Dear students, I regret to inform you that something dire seems to have happened here tonight. As of now, we are all uncertain of the circumstances, but no accusations should be made towards anyone. You will all be informed of further details tomorrow, but for now, please return to your common rooms and your dormitories. Prefects, make certain to empty this corridor of people, it must be investigated in peace.”

The teachers and Prefects began moving people back towards the closest staircases, sound once more filling the hall as people objected or speculated loudly. Some seemed to have started to cry and were being comforted. Filch was taken aside by Madam Pomfrey and headed towards the hospital wing. She spoke to him in a soft voice, trying to calm his sadness. The madness had once more turned into grief, and he sobbed violently into his hands.

Malfoy moved, pulling Harry with him as he attempted to follow the Slytherin students, while Hermione and Neville tried to go with their fellow Gryffindor students. Yet the Headmaster halted them with a movement of his hand. 

“You four stay. There are some questions we need to ask before we can allow you to return back to your dormitories.” He didn’t sound accusing in the least, instead, he was very calm, his soft voice making even Harry’s throbbing head feel at ease. 

Malfoy glanced at Harry, and then brought him over to the windows, where Harry could sit down on the windowsill and breathe. He leaned back against the cold glass, slowly feeling his sensory overload ease. The world came back into focus, and things started to make sense again. He sighed, becoming vaguely aware that he was still holding his wand. He tucked it back in its assigned pocket, nodding at his friend to show that he was alright. Or at least getting there. Hermione and Neville joined them on the other side of the corridor, clearly seeking to stay away from the petrified cat’s horrifying expression. 

As the corridor was almost completely cleared out, a loud, happy voice was heard, and Gilderoy Lockhart strode into view, smiling like he always did. “What’s with all the commotion? What did I miss?” 

The teachers all seemed to stiffen, Harry could see that Professor Snape’s already thin mouth had become even thinner. If Harry had thought that the Potions Master had disliked him when they first met, it was nothing compared to how much Professor Snape seemed to dislike the -author with the golden smile. 

“Behind you.” Professor McGonagall sighed, seemingly very close to annoyance. 

Lockhart turned, coming face to face with the petrified cat. He screamed and jumped back, almost slipping on the wet floor but managed to remain upright. “Hah… hahaha, oh my… That gave me quite the spook!” He exclaimed, laughing merrily to hide his embarrassment. 

Next to Harry, Hermione and Neville both chuckled, despite their expressions confessing to them not finding the situation funny at all. It very much seemed to be a reaction caused out of stress rather than them meaning to laugh. 

“How delightful.” Professor Snape’s voice was the least delighted sound Harry had ever heard. “Now that our Defense against the Dark Arts Professor is here, do tell us what your conclusion is upon seeing this… scene.” He swept out with his hand, referring to everything in the corridor. 

“Yes indeed.” Professor McGonagall nodded, looking at the golden man with a look of barely contained distaste. Out of the teachers and Prefects present, the two of them seemed by far the least impressed by Lockhart’s late appearance. Whether Professor Dumbledore disliked the man or not was impossible to read from just his face. 

“Why, yes…” The man nodded, turning towards the cat and the message once more. He seemed to be staring at the cat for a while, but then turned back, his expression unchanged but his face slightly sweatier. “It is my professional judgement that she has been petrified!” He announced to those present. Hermione nodded enthusiastically at the deduction, but most of the teachers seemed somewhat underwhelmed. 

“And?” Professor Snape slowly crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the man with almost unblinking eyes. 

“And… and…” He turned towards the wall once more, then quickly looked at the Head of the Slytherin House once again. “And the Chamber of Secrets seems to have been open once again!” His announcement was once more loud, making so that everyone heard him. 

“Once… again?” Harry repeated slowly. 

“Students.” Professor Dumbledore spoke to them in his soft, gentle voice. “Come with me. Minerva, Severus, do join us, as these students are under your jurisdiction.” 

The four were taken to a nearby classroom, where chairs were arranged for them. The Headmaster himself sat down on top of the desk, disregarding the chair which was offered to him. The Heads of their Houses remained standing, with Professor McGonagall looking nervous and frightened, and Professor Snape wearing a neutral expression. 

“Students,” the Headmaster began. “You are suspected of nothing, but for the sake of clarity, I would like to know exactly what happened until you found the scene of the petrification. Spare no details, if you will. This is not for the sake of accusing you, but to avoid accusations towards you in the future.” He smiled carefully, resting his hands on his lap. “Why were you not at the Halloween feast?” 

Harry glanced at his friends, all of whom seemed somewhat uncertain to speak. Just as he was about to begin speaking, Hermione raised her voice. 

“It was because Malfoy wanted to apologise to me for what he called me a few weeks back. If Professors remember, he called me…” She hesitated as Malfoy curled together with guilt and shame, a rather uncharacteristic thing for the boy to do. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. 

“We remember.” Professor Snape urged her on, a look of almost passive interest had taken shape upon his face. 

“We wanted to all meet and discuss it properly.” Harry continued. “That is to say, Granger and Malfoy met and talked it through, with me and Longbottom coming along as support for both sides.” 

“Malfoy apologised for what he said, and explained his reasons as to why he had felt that he had the right to address her like that but that he was wrong about it.” Neville followed Harry’s explanation. 

“He has apologised properly, and I am very, uh… satisfied with the way it was all solved.” The Gryffindor girl continued. “We were just about to head back to the feast, I don’t think any of us realised just how much time had passed, when… when…” She hesitated, glancing towards Harry now. 

“I heard a voice through the walls.” Harry admitted, looking at Professor Dumbledore’s hands as he spoke. “I’ve heard it once before, and I told Malfoy who was with me at the time. He didn’t hear anything, neither did anyone but me hear anything this time.” The Professors exchanged looks, looking somewhat nervous and tense respectively. 

“A voice? Could you describe it?” The Headmaster leaned forward, studying Harry’s face. 

“I…” Harry licked his lips. “I don’t know if it’s a man or a woman talking, but they are sort of muttering to themselves. When they talk, it is as if the floor is vibrating, and I get the feeling that I’m being watched from all sides at once. That sort of creepy feeling on your neck when you think that something might be in the dark with you.” He tried his best to describe it. 

“And what does it say?” The old wizard continued to urge him. 

“It’s… Hungry.” Next to Harry, Neville shuddered. “It speaks about eating, I heard it say something about seeing someone. I thought it was going to kill, so I just… I guess I just rushed to try and stop it from murdering someone.” He lowered his head, staring at his shoes. “I guess… I guess I was too late… I’m sorry we couldn’t get to Mrs. Norris in time.” 

The adults exchanged glances once more. The Headmaster looked at the Potions Master, who slowly nodded. Professor Dumbledore turned towards the students once more. “You have nothing to apologise for, Mr. Lupin. Now, if all of you could hand over your wands for a final examination. This magic will show whatever spell your wand last cast.” 

They all surrendered their wands, Professor McGonagall held them as Professor Snape cast the spell. It was quickly relieved that the spell they all cast last was the same spell, namely the one which they had been tested on the day before. As it had been the Transfiguration teacher’s class, she could easily confirm the date and time when she had tested them on said spell. The wands were returned, with all the students putting their respective wands back into their assigned pockets.

“Have you had anything to eat?” The Headmaster asked, to which they responded in the negative with. “Make sure they don’t go to bed with empty stomachs, I have some things I must do most hurriedly.” He rose and walked towards the door, but as he did, Harry carefully stopped him. 

“Professor? What… what is the Chamber of Secrets?” 

The old wizard didn’t look back at him, but he answered in a calm tone of voice. “Everything will be discussed tomorrow at breakfast, do not rush to conclusions this time, but trust in that no information will be held from you.” He assured, walking out of the room, the door closing behind him as if even the castle respected the man. 

“I suppose some infinity sandwiches might be the best for now.” Professor McGonagall concluded, removing her wand from its assigned pocket in her robes. 

The second year students were given their food, and ate in silence with the Head of the Gryffindor House watching over them, as Snape disappeared out the door to fulfill some duty or another. 

Harry only realised when they were told to return to their common rooms that Malfoy hadn’t said a word since he whispered about the Chamber of Secrets. 


	9. Chapter 8 - in which Dobby doesn’t attempt to kill Harry Potter Lupin, just scare him

The next morning, it was clear that something had changed. It was everywhere, in the air, in the way people spoke, in the way whispers seemed to be all that filled the Great Hall. People weren’t terrified, but they were clearly very aware that something was wrong. When he sat down by the Slytherin table that morning, Harry felt as if the table had been pushed closer to the wall, and all the other Houses’ tables felt further away. It made his stomach turn to feel so isolated from the rest of the school, even if he couldn’t quite put into words why it made him feel so ill, rather than just sad. 

When Professor Dumbledore stood up, the Great Hall turned silent almost right away, everyone’s eyes turning to the old wizard. Harry found himself scanning the room for Filch, but couldn’t see him. 

“Students, thank you for your silence. For those of you who have missed the events which transpired yesterday. Mrs. Norris, Mr. Filch's loyal companion and guardian of Hogwarts was found petrified alongside a message that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Allow me to address your concerns one at a time, beginning with our treasured guardian: currently she is still petrified. The Hogwarts Board of Governors have been contacted and asked to supply extracts of Mandragora to free her from her petrification. This morning, we received the response that we will not receive any to free her, but that she must wait until the Mandragora here at Hogwarts become ripe.” He paused, as if expecting the students to react, but none of them moved or seemingly made a sound. 

“In regards to what the Chamber of Secrets is, it is a rumored chamber built somewhere within Hogwarts. It was supposedly built by Salazar Slytherin after a falling out with the other founders in regards to if Muggle-born students should be allowed in the school. Slytherin believed that they should not, and he advocated for only Pureblood or Full Blooded students to attend, while the other founders believed that everyone should and would be welcome to study at Hogwarts, as long as they were capable of wielding magic. This policy of welcoming all has been held by the school ever since, and upheld as welcoming each and every mage regardless of birth.” 

Harry found himself looking at Malfoy, who seemed to want to avoid looking at anyone or anything but his empty plate. Unlike him, Hermione and Neville, and unlike most people in the school, Malfoy seemed to know about the Chamber of Secrets from earlier. In regards to what the Headmaster was saying now, it seemed that the Chamber might be known to some families with a proud lineage of being sorted into the Slytherin House. When Harry glanced around, he saw a lot less confused or surprised faces by his table in comparison to the other tables. 

“This Chamber of Secrets is said to only be able to be found and opened by the Heir of Slytherin, who supposedly would one day come to Hogwarts and return it to a school for only those Salazar Slytherin considered worthy.” Professor Dumbledore continued, but this time, the Great Hall broke out into worried whispers and frightened glances. 

Harry looked around, and found that most Slytherin students seemed to have shut their expressions down, staring in front of them or at the other Houses with either look of defiance or pride. Harry could almost feel the rift between them and the other students grow. His head spun, as if he was standing on top of a cliff, about to fall. 

“However!” This time, the old wizard raised his voice, calling for silence. “The Chamber has never been proven to exist. The Heir of Slytherin is more likely a scare tactic from someone who seeks to frighten the school. All of you students are equally treasured as the students of Hogwarts, and none shall seek to drive you from your right to education. Do not allow a rift to form between you, you may come from different Houses, different families, and different lives, but here at Hogwarts, you are all comrades.” He smiled softly at the students, making at least Harry feel a lot better. It felt even better to be told what was going on, what the Chamber was, and that measurements were taken against the incident. It felt very different from last year’s amount of secrecy among the adults. 

“Currently, there is no suspect in the case with Mrs. Norris. The Board of Governors have been notified of everything which is going on currently, and have deemed this to be a crude joke or an Heir impostor’s work. No further measurements will be taken by the Board at this moment. Yet, I implore all of you students to take heed in walking alone. You are strong when you are united, and weak when fractured. Take this time to foster bonds, and be united, rather than let different beliefs rip you apart. That is all, thank you for your time.” His speech was followed by a weak applause. 

Harry got the feeling that nobody really enjoyed breakfast that morning. Not even Crabbe or Goyle, who often spoke of breakfast as the most enjoyable meal of the day. Even Harry’s beloved pumpkin muffins tasted dull in his mouth. 

Despite Professor Dumbledore’s words, some people had already made up their minds, causing the Slytherin students to become more isolated than before. It was in subtle changes where Harry noticed it the most. How people seemed to remain ever further from them in the corridors, how lone students seemed to almost flee from them, and how the Slytherin students were looked at with watchful eyes, like it was the duty of the other students to make certain they didn’t step over any lines. Laughter seemed to simply die when any Slytherin approached a group of other students. 

For a while, that was all which changed, but then the whispers started. Low at first, subtle and shy like the fluttering of wings during a dark night. Then they grew louder. Less apologetic. 

Malfoy seemed to be most people’s suspects, despite what the Headmaster had said to the contrary. Wherever he went, people whispered of the time he had called Hermione a Mudblood, and despite what the girl herself seemed to be saying, people still insisted that he was a Pureblood supremacist, who actually wished all those of lesser birth to die. One single mistake which Malfoy had already made up for became unforgivable in everyone’s eyes, and somehow the proof that he was evil. Nobody cared to consider the circumstances, or that they might be wrong. Not entirely unlike Malfoy himself before he had learnt better, and not unlike Pureblood supremacists, they chose to ignore all evidence in favor of their own ideas about the boy. Harry found it sickening. 

As if he had been trained for it, Malfoy showed no signs of being bothered by the whispers, at times, he even appeared proud. However, Harry knew his friend better than that. He could also see that Malfoy’s fingers had become dry, the nails broken and the sides of the nails red and bruised, sometimes even bleeding. It was a clear sign of stress, even if the wounds were very small and not directly harmful or dangerous. Harry would catch him absently poking the almost wounds, or biting his nails when nobody saw, and always sought to stop him. Still, he wasn’t able to stop him all the time, and the nails witnessed the pain which Malfoy’s face never confessed to. 

Harry had asked his friend about the Chamber of Secrets when he had the chance and they were alone with their friends in the Slytherin dormitory which was assigned to them. It was quickly revealed to Harry that Crabbe and Goyle knew about the Chamber, while he and Blaise did not know more than what the Headmaster had told the school. 

Malfoy told them that he had been told about the Chamber of Secrets by his father, as an almost type of bedtime story. Salazar Slytherin had been a man of great vision, and he had objected to the mixing of magic blood with non magic blood, finding the offspring of magic to be far preferable. The blonde boy told in whispers of a monster lurking within the Chamber, a beast which would only obey the Heir, and seek to fulfill Slytherin’s wish. 

Harry has asked what type of monster it was but neither Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle had been able to give an answer. They theorised if the monster might have been what Harry had heard that evening, but quickly ran into a halt in that monsters didn’t generally tend to speak. Neither could anyone of them think of a monster who had the ability to petrify people, rather than wounding or eating them. 

“Still…” Harry concluded, keeping his voice low as it felt far too loud in their dormitory chamber. “Lockhart said that the Chamber had been opened again. If what he said is true, then this… this isn’t the first time the Heir of Slytherin has been active.” 

“Then that also means that it is impossible for a child our age to be the Heir of Slytherin.” Blaise theorised as he sat on his bed, his brow furrowed in thought. “If the Chamber had been opened recently, as in, the past five to ten years, there should be recordings of it happening. Our parents might have known and told us of it, it… it almost seemed like it was opened so long ago that there has been time for people to forget it.” 

“I believe my father would have told me if the Chamber of Secrets had been opened during his time, as he clearly believes in the idea that Slytherin’s Heir exists and would come to cleanse the school of the Muggle-born. So how would Lockhart know about it opening but not my father?” Malfoy huffed, in between offended and confused. A very strange place to find one's emotion in. 

“Maybe… it was something which he was told of as he started as a teacher, rather than something he knew before?” Crabbe theorised now, looking like he was thinking so hard that his head hurt. 

“That might be it.” Harry agreed, rolling around on his bed as if it would make it easier for his brain to think. “Good guess. He really doesn’t seem that good at reading up on things, as his lessons always have factual holes and lack credible sources.” He landed by his pillow and slowly sat up. “Perhaps… what that House Elf tried to tell me about… Could it have been the Chamber opening? Or the plot to make it seem like the Chamber had opened? It could be that the Headmaster suspected something to happen in regards to the Chamber of Secrets, and took enough precautions to tell the teachers about it beforehand, so that they would be ready if something happened with it?” 

“It’s a little far fetched.” Blaise sighed, resting his head in his hand. “But it is true that the Headmaster might have counted the Chamber as one potential danger which could be used from within Hogwarts. The House Elf specified that it was a plot taking place at Hogwarts, thus the Chamber would make logical sense to utilise.”

“It was also far-fetched to believe that Quirrell had the Dark Lord on the back of his head so… I guess logic doesn’t always apply in the Wizarding World.” Malfoy crossed his legs, looking displeased. They had of course told their friend group all about what had happened last year, and about what Professor Quirrell had been. 

Goyle shuddered. “Don’t talk about that too… The monster is scary enough.” 

“You’re a Pureblood.” Blaise pointed out. “You’re not very likely to be targeted by Slytherin’s monster or anything like that.” 

“I still don’t like the idea of living in the same house as a monster!” Goyle objected, shaking his head. 

“Me neither…” Crabbe admitted. “But at least it doesn’t seem like it would want to hurt us.” 

“Aren’t you lucky?” Blaise rested his head in his hand, sighing with a tired look on his face. “That also means that people are more likely to suspect you of being the Heir, causing you to be isolated and blamed like Malfoy is being right now.” 

The Pureblood in question looked displeased as he was called out for being highly suspected by the other students. “I have apologised, they are just being stupid at this point. I won’t let it bother me.” As he spoke, he began fidgeting with his nails again. 

“Malfoy, nails.” Harry carefully called out to him, causing him to stop and huff to hide his embarrassment. “Then, if the Chamber has been opened, it must be by someone older than us. Perhaps even a teacher. Which would put Lockhart on the list of suspects, as he is the newest to arrive at Hogwarts from the position of a staff member.”

They all exchanged looks. Nobody believed Lockhart to be capable of opening the Chamber or Secrets. The man wasn’t necessarily a terrible wizard and could clearly perform and teach the things which the second year students were supposed to learn. However, when it came to larger feats, they had never once heard the man say something which they could fully believe he had actually managed. Adding all the evidence for his continuous lying for the sake of his fame made it impossible to imagine Lockhart as more than an average adult wizard. 

“Lockhart is also a Half-blood.” Blaise pointed out with another tired look on his face. “It was on one of his quizzes. If he truly was a Pureblood supremacist, he wouldn’t really be posing as a Half-blood.” 

“What is your blood status, Blaise?” Goyle asked suddenly. “Lupin is a Half-blood, the rest of us are Purebloods, what about you?” 

Blaise scoffed. “If my mother knew, she never told me or made note of it.” 

“Oh.” Goyle looked a little guilty to have brought it up. Blood status wasn’t something every mage cared about, but it was a fact very natural for everyone within the community to know about themselves. Blaise not knowing was pretty much the same as confessing he had no idea who his father was. 

Silence lingered until Malfoy pointed out that he had Quidditch practice the next day and wanted to sleep before it got late enough that lack of sleep might affect his performance. They agreed to all go to bed, but Harry had a feeling that he wasn’t the only one to lay sleepless long into the night. 

If it had been hard to approach Hermione and Neville before the message written in blood, it was nothing compared to how hard it was now. Harry tried to work together with them during Potions class, but the way which the surrounding people looked at him when he even approached the small cutting knives made him feel very uncomfortable. Hermione tried to look ahead and see the end of the event, claiming that the message was most likely a scare tactic and that there was no Chamber and no monster. When people learnt that nothing more would happen, they were likely to calm down and things would return to normal yet again. 

Harry very much wanted to believe her, but it was hard. 

It finally became time for the next Slytherin Quidditch game, where they were facing Gryffindor. Harry had hoped that the game would be a moment of rest between all the feuding parties, but it instead seemed all the more vicious and cruel. 

Blaise had decided not to come this time, but Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Nott were cheering for Malfoy from the benches. Nott tended to be alone for the most part, but as the tension between Slytherin and the other Houses rose, he had decided that he was safer with his fellow year Slytherin students. They were cheering for Malfoy and the team, but somehow it seemed like the students who had come to cheer on Gryffindor had tripled in size. Harry couldn’t help but see it as a sign to how badly the rest of the Houses wanted Slytherin to lose in something. 

It did not take long before one of the Weasley twins sent a bludger towards Malfoy, almost causing him to fall off the broom. Harry could hear the laughs from the other benches. The Seeker wasn’t even supposed to be involved in the game for the ball, the bludgers weren’t supposed to be used against them. 

The game continued like that, both teams constantly escalating the conflict with worse and worse play, causing players on both sides to almost fall off their brooms or crash into the stands. A few times, the game turned so violent that the bludgers came dangerously close to hitting the onlookers. 

“Look out!” Nott suddenly called, and he had realised that another bludger was heading their way. 

Harry ducked just in time to feel it fly over his head, almost close enough to touch him. He stood up, trying to find where Malfoy was once more, but before he could, he heard Nott scream once more. 

“It’s coming back!”

Crabbe grabbed Harry’s collar and yanked him back, just as the bludger crashed into the spot where Harry had just been standing. The green eyed boy stared at the hole in the floor, blinking as he tried to comprehend what was happening.This felt very reminiscent of when the stand’s railing had broken last year, but at least then someone was trying to kill him. The Dark Lord wasn’t any longer in the school or in the staff, so why was he still being attacked? 

The sound of an object rushing through the air was heard once more, causing Crabbe to yank the smaller boy away once more as the bludger broke through the floor again, sweeping past Harry. His cheek burnt as it swished past, leading him to conclude that it has hit him at least briefly. 

“No, no, no, no…!” Somewhere next to him, Parkinson whimpered, looking up at the ball which was yet again approaching Harry from above. “Get off the stands!” She screamed at him. “Before you bring the whole thing down!” 

“I’m not doing anything!” Harry yelled back, jumping out of the ball’s way one more time. 

However, the bludger was ready for it at this point. Harry’s vision turned white as the ball curved, hitting him straight in the stomach. All the air was pushed out of his lungs, he felt his glasses slide down on his nose and then… He was falling. His mind couldn’t comprehend that he had fallen off the stands, even if his back witnessed over the fact that he had crashed into the railing before he began falling. He had started to spin during the fall, adding to his speed as gravity claimed him, pulling him down into a crushing embrace. He couldn’t hear anything as his ears became filled with the rushing screams of the air, the world spinning past too fast for his eyes to understand what he saw. 

Something green came towards him, there was a flash of silver and then a body collided with his. The next thing he knew, there was a terrible pain in his left arm, his vision became clad in green as something wrapped around him, holding him tight. 

The first thing he heard was the screams. 

The game had stopped, somewhere, the commentator was screaming about Malfoy catching the Golden Snitch and that the game was over. Harry opened his eyes slowly, he was wrapped in someone’s arms, someone clad in Slytherin’s colors. Only when the teenager sat up did Harry recognise the Slytherin captain as the person to have caught him. It seemed that he hadn’t managed to catch Harry completely, and had instead crashed into the ground with his back first to protect the younger student from possibly breaking his neck in the fall. 

Flint grimaced at Harry, clearly in pain but trying to hide it from the younger boy. “You alright, kid?” He mumbled through clenched teeth while trying to give him a reassuring grin. It only lasted for a second before he could no longer pretend that he wasn’t in pain. Flint fell back onto the ground, groaning as his face twisted. 

Harry was about to say that he was fine, but the sharp pain in his left arm reminded him that something was wrong. As Harry looked down upon it, he saw to his great horror that the arm was hanging limply by his side, and that he could not move his fingers at all. 

“Lupin! Lupin!” Malfoy landed, coming running towards them with the rest of the team close behind him. His face was blurry, Harry didn’t know if it was because he was far away or because his glasses might have broken in the crash.

“Flint!” Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team captain came running from the other end of the field, having thrown his broom to the side. “What in the world! You could have broken you back, are you insane!” The teenager yelled as he approached. Harry only recognised him because of his voice and Keeper gear.

Malfoy threw himself down on his knees next to Harry, looking like he was about to cry. “What are you doing! Why were you falling?” 

“Oh shut your face, Woody. I didn’t, and the kid would have had a much worse landing if I hadn’t.” The Slytherin captain huffed back, remaining on the ground as his team and Wood surrounded them. 

“Captain, my Merlin that was reckless!”

“Lupin, is your arm broken?” 

“You broke your broom!” 

“Whatever…” Flint grunted, having closed his eyes to the world. “I liked my old one better either way…” He didn’t say anything more after that, seemingly having passed out. 

Harry hid against Malfoy’s neck from all the noise, trying to cover his ears with only one hand. He had shut his eyes, doing his best to not faint from the earlier fear and now the pain. He was quickly approaching another sensory overload, which his friend could tell that he was. Malfoy helped Harry cover his other ear, barking up at the students to back off. 

Somewhere next to Flint, Wood was checking his pulse to make certain that he was alive. He was mumbling something about what he’d do if Flint didn’t wake up again, his eyes seemingly wet with emotions. It was impossible to tell if he was crying because he was scared, stressed, or actually cared that much about his rival captain. 

“Out of the way, out of the way, I’m a trained professional!” Lockhart’s voice suddenly added to the screaming, managing to push some of the Slytherin players aside as he came storming into their circle like a drunk Giant. “Let me see him!” He demanded from Malfoy, gently pulling them apart to get a better look at Harry’s arm. 

Harry gasped in pain as the sleeve was pulled back, hiding against his friend’s chest once more as the golden smile studied the damage. 

“You don’t have to worry at all, my boy. You will be fine, just fine, I have performed this spell many times, you are in capable hands.” The author pulled his wand out from its assigned pocket and cleared his throat. 

“Please don’t.” Harry and Malfoy whimpered with such synchronicity that Left and Right Weasley would have been jealous had they heard it. 

“He’s delirious from the crash.” Lockhart laughed and pronounced a spell over Harry’s broken arm. 

To his credit, the pain did go away. As did all the bones in Harry’s left arm. 

The son of a werewolf stared down at the arm as it wobbled like rubber by his side. It was impossible to imagine that that very same arm had been part of his body just mere minutes before. Harry felt as if a heat erupted in his head, spreading from his neck to his eyes, blinding him. The last thing he saw before passing out was Malfoy yanking the wand out of Lockhart’s hands before he attempted to help Flint. 


	10. Chapter 9 - in which Colin Creevey should not have broken the curfew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dobby flinched, looking like he was about to start wailing. “Dobby just wants to protect Harry Potter Lupin, he wanted to make him hurt enough that he would go home to his father.” He whimpered, pulling hard on his own ears. 
> 
> “...You.” Harry breathed. “The bludger, it was you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> As Dobby is a very abused and pitiable creature he will mention self-harm in this chapter. This taking place in his usual manner and very similarly to the canon books.

When Harry came to again, he was lying on a bed in the infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey carefully but firmly shaking him awake. He blinked, absently reaching for his glasses but remembered soon that his left arm was boneless. The woman handed him his glasses, as if she had read his mind. 

“Broken bones, I can heal in a flash, but this? You won’t have a pleasant night, Lupin. Drink this.” She gave him a glass of a brown, foul smelling, chunky liquid. Harry grimaced at it, but took it. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, and began to drink. It took every ounce of willpower to not hurl as he drank it. Harry imagined that this might be how bad his dad’s Lycanthropy potion tasted, and instantly became thankful that he didn’t have to drink this every month. As he swallowed it down, he silently cheered to his dad. 

His dad would not like to hear that his son fell off the Quidditch stands… Harry almost considered not telling him as it would make the man worry so much, but he ultimately decided that not telling him was the much worse option. He did not want to get into the practice of not being honest with his dad. 

“Thank...thank you…” He handed the empty glass over to the woman, already feeling an uncomfortable feeling in his arm, like it was buzzing softly and crawled with tiny ants. She nodded and left, leaving Harry to look around himself and figure out what he could do to pass the time. 

Next to him on the other bed, he spotted Flint’s sleeping face through the curtains of the divider. Now that all the noise and impressions had calmed, Harry could actually look upon the teenager who saved him.    
  
Marcus Flint was every bit of what people feared and despised about Slytherin students. He was relatively large and strong, which he utilized to terrorise and scare people into submission. He was constantly threatening, demeaning and seemed to enjoy being vicious to people. In terms of Quidditch it had become rather clear that the teenager didn’t care much for fair play, and Malfoy had even confessed to that the captain encouraged the team into foul play. Harry wasn’t sure if Malfoy had told anyone else, but it greatly bothered the Slytherin Seeker that he was locked to a team encouraging cheating and hurting others, because it made his victories worth less. Still, Flint was doing all those things, and he seemed to enjoy it, at least visibly. Then again, to most people, Malfoy looked like he was indifferent about the Chamber of Secrets rumors, and they were evidently wrong.    
  
To add to all of it, Flint had very large pointy teeth and what looked to be a minor facial deformity on his lips, causing an expression which wasn’t very pleasant or flattering. Harry wasn’t personally bothered, but he could only imagine what sort of prejudice and bullying a person faced for looking different like that, especially knowing how much the other Houses already isolated Slytherins for just any excuse. The constant grimacing and expressions made Flint look downright evil in many senses, which was very messed up since he probably couldn’t help it.   
  
Even Harry was guilty of fearing the Quidditch captain, and to be fair, Flint was making himself known to be fearsome. He wasn’t a good person, he did act pretty horribly.    
  
Yet, the teenager had saved Harry.    
  
Somehow, when he actually thought about it, it felt so obvious that Flint would and had saved him. The teenager was still a person just like anyone else, and one which had been appointed the leader for something, meaning he should have some sort of qualities to lead and take responsibility. All of the negative things about Flint didn’t just magically turn him into evil. It didn’t mean he would ignore a child falling to his death.    
  
With everything happening and all the rumors about the Chamber of Secrets, Flint’s actions felt beyond relieving. Flint had proved that Slytherins, even at their worst, were still people. Harry didn’t think he currently had words to express just how much he appreciated the teenager right then, but he would make sure to thank the other later. 

Harry ended up staring into the ceiling for a long time, thinking about what to write to his dad, until he fell asleep. Later that night, he woke up due to the pain in his arm. It felt like his skin was bubbling and boiling, causing Harry to fear looking at the limb in case he would actually see the skin bubbling. 

His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper, causing him to slowly sit up and search for a glass of water. There was one right next to his bed, which he thankfully picked up and drank from. 

“Harry Potter Lupin should not have come to Hogwarts.” 

Harry almost dropped the glass, as the voice came suddenly and from very close by. He knew who it was by the voice alone, but the way the creature addressed him was another clue. The boy grabbed his glasses and pulled them on, finding Dobby hiding under the nightstand next to his bed. In the dark infirmary, the big green eyes seemed faintly lumiinsent, making for a very uncomfortable sight. 

“Dobby?” Harry hesitated as he spoke the creature’s name. “I thought that we had discussed this already, Professor Dumbledore is handling what you are worried about.”

“No, no…!” The House Elf whimpered, curling together under the nightstand while grabbing his ears. “This is all horrible, all horrible. Harry Potter Lupin should have let himself be hurt and go home. Home to his werewolf father, home to the safety of home and chocolate.” The creature seemed to be rambling now, swaying back and forth in place, still holding his ears. 

Harry looked around to make sure that nobody had heard him call Remus a werewolf, yet found that Flint was deep asleep on the bed next to him, the moonlight falling on his face, thus making it easy to confirm that he was not conscious. “Let myself get hurt… what are you talking about?” Harry whispered, leaning closer to the House Elf to encourage the creature to whisper too. As he did, he got a feeling that this talk with Dobby would be far less pleasant than the previous one. 

Dobby flinched, looking like he was about to start wailing. “Dobby just wants to protect Harry Potter Lupin, he wanted to make him hurt enough that he would go home to his father.” He whimpered, pulling hard on his own ears. 

“...You.” Harry breathed. “The bludger, it was you…”

Dobby sobbed, hiding behind his ears. “He did it for Harry Potter Lupin! Not for himself! Dobby has already punished himself for what he did to Harry Potter Lupin, see!” He was becoming louder again, and he threw his hands at Harry, showing fingers which seemed almost broken and burnt, wrapped with makeshift bandages which seemed dirty at best. 

Harry felt sick to his stomach. This creature was so very pitiable, yet so very dangerous in his deranged wishes to save Harry. It seemed that he had no concept over human pain, or how much a human body could handle. A bludger to the head could and would likely have killed, not to mention that without Flint, Harry was likely to no longer be alive. Yet here the creature was, holding up his burnt fingers and prostrating himself to Harry once more, while crying and sobbing. Harry was overwhelmed with a desire to never see Dobby again, but that type of reaction might cause the House Elf to overreact and hurt himself even worse. Maybe even… no, Harry didn’t want to think about worse implications. 

“Dobby… I don’t want you to hurt yourself as punishment. I never want to see anyone physically hurt as punishment for what they’ve done.” Harry took a deep breath, then slid off his bed to sit next to the House Elf, his left arm hanging limply by his side. The floor was cold against his naked feet, but it also helped calm the unrest and fear in his chest. Maybe, just maybe he could get through to the creature by being calm, kind, and reasonable. Harry was everything but calm on the inside. He was overcome with fear and hurt and the fact that this creature had nearly gotten him killed. There was no excuse for such a thing. Yet, all the more uncomfortable was knowing that he couldn’t act on his hurt and betrayal, because it would only cause the delirious creature more damage. A twelve year old should not have to deal with such a thing in the first place, but Dobby was clearly too obsessed with Harry’s supposed heritage as the boy-who-lived to disappear out of his life any time soon. 

“It hurts me when you do this to yourself.” Harry held up his hand as he thought that the elf might be about to wail about how good he was and things like that, as he had proven to be prone to doing before. “I really don’t want you to punish or wound yourself. I don’t want you to try and do things for me which you feel are the best for me. I want you to come and talk to me instead, and have us figure out a solution together.” He really didn’t. He didn’t want to have to deal with someone like Dobby, but there was little choice. Dobby was a threat to his safety, and he couldn't really do anything else. 

The creature sobbed as he swayed back and forth. “But Dobby doesn’t know anything else, how is Dobby to talk when Dobby cannot talk?” 

“You can talk, and you have talked before. Remember how good you were when you spoke to my dad? You liked him, didn’t you?” Dobby nodded sadly. “My dad will be very sad when he learns that I was almost gravely injured. You could have talked to me instead, and nobody would have wanted to be hurt. Neither you or me.” 

Dobby seemed about to have a breakdown, and to make certain that he didn’t scream or cry loud enough to call the nurse to Harry’s bed, Harry handed him the pillow to cry into. The creature accepted it, letting said pillow accept the worst of his breakdown. Harry remained on the floor, studying the House Elf to make certain that he was only crying and not hurting himself. His arm was hurting even then, and he felt too tired and too distressed to actually deal with this, but Dobby truly gave him no choice. He had to manage through it despite it having been unfairly forced upon him. 

When Dobby finally calmed down, he looked to Harry with big, sad eyes, and then apologised. Not in the strange, whaling manner, or in depriving himself of worth, but a genuine apology which seemed to come from the heart. The son of a werewolf smiled gently at him, before going back to sit on the bed, feeling everything ache. He was incredibly relieved to find Dobby capable of a sincere apology rather than a trained response, but such a thing wasn’t exactly enough to make up for what had happened. At the very least it was proof that Dobby could to some degree be reasoned with, which was a little bit calming. 

“Dobby?” Harry found himself needing to ask one more question. “Did you know about the Chamber of Secrets? If so, is there anything you can tell me which might help? Most people think that the whole thing might be a prank, do you know if it’s real?” 

The House Elf hesitated, then shook his head, looking down at his feet. “Dobby’s Master believes the Chamber to be real. He wants it to be real. Master wants Hogwarts to be cleansed from Mudbloods, but Dobby isn’t sure what that means. Still, Dobby does know one thing to share with Harry Potter Lupin, which Master didn’t tell Dobby not to say. Someone was killed when the Chamber was opened last time, a Mudblood was killed.” 

“It’s Muggle-born, not the other word.” Harry corrected him with a soft voice and to his great relief, Dobby nodded. Still, it did nothing to ease the fear which gripped Harry upon realising that somebody had actually been killed within Hogwarts. He desperately tried to push it away from him, focusing on finding out more from the House Elf rather than to let himself be frightened by the past. “Do you know when it was last opened?” 

“Dobby doesn’t know…” The House Elf sighed. He might have been trying to say something else, but there was a burst of noise by the entrance doors to the hospital wing, and they swung open. When Harry glanced back at the place where Dobby had been, he was gone. 

In through the doors came what seemed to be two teachers, carrying something between them. Even in the dark, with only the silhouette as a guide, Harry could make out the shapes of Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Madam Pomfrey followed them, and the adults clambered around a bed in the far back of the infirmary. At first, Harry thought that they had gathered around a statue, yet his heart sank upon hearing Madam Pomfrey’s voice whisper to the Headmaster. 

“Who is it, who is the victim…?”

“It is Colin Creevey, a first year Gryffindor student.” Professor McGonagall seemed to have a hard time speaking, as if her emotions threatened to overwhelm her if she did not keep to strict facts. 

“Has he been petrified in the same manner as Mrs. Norris?” The Headmaster’s calm voice entered the conversation, urging the nurse to inspect the boy rather than speak. 

Things were silent for a while, before Madam Pomfrey spoke up once more. “Yes, it seems to be the same. Can this camera be removed from his face? I need to get a better look at it before I can tell for certain.” There were some more clamoring and subtle noises before she spoke up again. “His eyes' reaction to light is the same as the cat’s, this seems to have been caused by the same magic. Still, I am not educated in this type of magic, I cannot tell what has caused it just by studying the outside of the body...” There was another silence, Harry got the feeling that they were all looking at the petrified boy’s face. “Poor child… Whatever was he doing out past curfew?”

“Wait, he might have taken a picture of his assailant.” Professor McGonagall’s voice seemed to carry a bit of hope in it, as she eagerly spoke of the camera. “Let us check before we proceed with anything else.” 

Harry carefully looked towards them, leaning forward to try and see better. He could see the adults gather together. Then there was a puff of smoke, and most pulled back with surprised or shocked noises. A strange, chemical scent which Harry personally couldn’t identify hit his nose, causing him to scrunch it. It was the scent of burnt plastic, yet the son of a werewolf was not familiar with such a scent and was thus unable to identify it. 

“Melted…” Professor McGonagall’s voice was beyond shaken at this point. “Albus, what does it all mean?” 

“It means… that the Chambers of Secrets really has opened.” The man’s voice sent shivers down Harry’s spine. He swallowed, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest as the old wizard himself confirmed that there was no possibility of this being a tasteless prank or scare tactic. “I must write to the Board of Governors right away. Minerva, write to the boy’s parents, Poppy, please do what you can for him as of now.” Harry saw the man turn and sweep towards the exit. He was so very focused on his goal that he didn’t even notice that Harry was sitting up, looking at the unfolding scene. 

Harry wasn’t released until midday the next day. His arm wasn’t back to normal, and he still had to keep it in a cast around his neck. Harry tried to be thankful that it was just his left arm rather than the right one, as he would still be able to take notes with his right. He was happy to be released, as he was growing bored out of his mind from the lack of things to do in the infirmary. Not to mention that he felt very uncomfortable with the idea of the petrified Colin Creevey so close by, hidden behind a divider and nothing more. 

It seemed Flint would be stuck there a while longer, but at least he was awake more than not. Some of his teammates and fellow Slytherins had left some presents for him. His team also seemed to visit him a few times throughout the day. His team and Oliver Wood that was. The Gryffindor team captain was also there once. Harry sort of vaguely recalled Wood from the scene of the accident. While he had tried very hard to mind his own business, it was hard to not look with fascination and wonder at the two boys who despite all their differences, seemed to know one another rather well. The atmosphere was rather tense when Wood visited, and Flint seemed to act as if he was annoyed to have the other teenager there. Still, they seemed to know one another very well, and Wood seemed to care for Flint's well being.    
  
It was through accidentally overhearing their conversation that Harry learnt how Flint’s injuries were the worst any Quidditch player at Hogwarts had gotten in at least a good ten to twenty years. It made Harry feel all the more guilty but also thankful towards the teenager for saving him.    
  
Before he left the infirmary, he made certain to actually thank Flint, by carefully approaching him and very honestly speaking up about how thankful he was. In turn, the teenager seemed mostly dismissive of his words, almost bothered, as he waved it all off as not that big of a deal. The look in the young man’s eyes spoke of something different, something more humble. It seemed Flint wasn't used to or quite capable of handling being praised.

Harry had been ready to tell his friends about Colin Creevey and what he had heard from Dobby about a person dying the last time the Chamber was opened, however, when he was released back into the school, he quickly discovered that everyone were talking about Colin Creevey and the Muggle-born student who had died back when the Chamber of Secrets was supposedly opened fifty years ago. Nobody knew where the information had come from, but it was being spread like wildfire. 

In some ways, Harry was relieved to not have to talk about Dobby again. He chose to try and forget that night, instead just writing to his dad about the accident and instead tried to go on with life and let his arm recover. 

Harry returned to another lesson held by Lockhart, and had to sit through the man trying to explain the Muggle legacy of Yetis and how it had affected their culture, but he was mostly just babbling on about his book, referring to it in every other sentence. For whatever it was worth, at least it was an easy lesson to zone out from and not be reprimanded for it. 

By the end of Lockhart’s rambles, as the lesson drew to a close, the man suddenly regained some vigor to his voice and mannerisms, suddenly peeking up with energy. “But before I let you all leave, I have a very interesting, exciting thing to share with you all!” He held out his arms, beaming at the students who looked at him like he was far too excited and they were far too tired for this. 

Lockhart was not deterred. “With the recent events in mind, and the many troubles on your mind, yours truly has requested from the Headmaster that I be allowed to start a dueling club. That is to say, me and Professor Snape welcome and shall instruct anyone interested in the art of duelling henceforth, every Wednesday in hall C, from six to eight evening time!” As he finished his sentence, he clapped his hands, and a piece of parchment appeared in the air, floating over towards the closest student who happened to be Ron Weasley. 

“Everyone who is interested, sign up!” The man beamed at Weasley, who slowly reached for his quill and signed his name on the list. 

When the paper came to Harry and his friends, they too signed up, silently agreeing that if Professor Snape was there, they might actually learn something worth it. 

After the lesson, Hermione and Neville walked alongside the group of Slytherins, it seemed that the two of them were making a statement in being with them, rather than keeping distance as everyone else. It meant a lot to Harry, and he was certain that it did to Malfoy as well, even if the boy couldn’t actually express it to the Gryffindors. Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle didn’t care, but Parkinson was consistently giving Hermione angry side eye glances, especially when she got closer to Malfoy. 

“How is your arm?” Hermione asked carefully, glancing at Harry’s cast. 

“The bones are back. It seems that it will take some more time for the nerves to connect back properly, so I might be stuck with this thing for anywhere up to a month.” Harry sighed, not really understanding what he was saying but mimicking what Madam Pomfrey had said. 

“I hope it won’t hinder you too much.” Neville gave him an encouraging smile. “Still… I’ve never heard of a Quidditch game where someone fell off the stands after being attacked by a dangerball.” 

“Bludger!” Malfoy corrected him, giving Neville an insulted glare as he had opted to adapt to calling the ball by the name which Harry had given it. Malfoy met Harry’s eyes but quickly glanced to the side. “Let’s not… talk about Quidditch. It’s just been a day and I’m far too tired of it already.” 

“It?” Harry leaned his head to the side like a confused puppy, frowning at his friend. 

“The Gryffindor versus Slytherin game is widely debated as staged.” Hermione explained, glancing at Malfoy as she spoke. “People don’t want to admit that you won fairly, and they have been trying to discredit the victory so that the game might be reheld.” 

“What?” Harry almost spit the word out, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Malfoy caught the Scribbsh fair and square. Why would they have to hold a rematch when he so clearly won?” 

Neville nodded in agreement, as Malfoy corrected Harry in that the Golden Snitch was not named the Scribbsh. 

Hermione shook her head, looking uncomfortable as she continued speaking. “People are claiming that the whole thing with you falling was staged with Captain Flint. They believe that it was a set up to distract the other players and allow Slytherin to catch the Snitch, as Flint isn’t the type to dive into danger and pain for the sake of someone he doesn’t even know.” 

Harry couldn’t do anything but stare at her in disbelief. “I… I can’t… They think it was staged because Flint wouldn’t care if there was nothing in it for him? That’s why they want a rematch? Do they realise they’re claiming that Flint would just let someone get seriously hurt and possibly die, and that he wouldn’t care?” 

Hermione shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the emotions which Harry was portraying onto her. “I don’t like it either. I find Flint rather scary, but I think that what he did was truly heroic. It’s very unfair towards his bravery to claim that he did it for himself, especially since it cost him his new broom.” 

“His broom broke…?” Harry thought back to the time when Flint had let go of him, and everyone had started to yell about different things. He thought he remembered someone talking about Flint’s broken broom, but he recalled Malfoy’s shoulder all the more than he did the other people’s talking. 

“Newer brooms are designed to break upon heavier impacts.” Malfoy explained. “Rather than being sturdy and possibly causing damage to the player or person should they crash, newer brooms are designed to break, therefore absorbing some of the impact rather than let it get to the rider. The broom is likely to thank for Flint being as fine as he was, after a crash like that. I don’t even want to think about how badly it could have hurt you both should it have remained whole and crashed alongside you.” He actually shuddered as he said it, making his argument very convincing. 

As they continued to walk, they passed the second floor corridor where Mrs. Norris had gotten petrified, Hermione excused herself with somewhat red cheeks, saying that she needed to go to the bathroom. She walked towards the bathroom which had been flooded that day, causing the boys and Parkinson to hesitantly follow her towards it. As she opened the door, sad moans and crying could be heard from within the bathroom. Hermione turned when entering, only to notice that she had an entire group of people behind her. 

“What are you following me for!” She more or less squeaked as she shut the main door to the bathroom in a hurry. 

“That was actually a pretty good question…” Neville agreed, looking sheepish as he turned towards the Slytherin students. He blinked as he seemed to realise that he was the only one wearing red among them, which evidently made him feel like he stood out. 

“Was someone crying in there?” Goyle looked at the door with worried eyes. 

“Hah, no, that was just Moaning Myrtle.” Parkinson shook her head. “She is the ghost of some student who died, and she haunts the toilets. She’s always crying and whining and when she gets really upset, she floods the bathroom. It happens all the time. Nobody really wants to use this girls’ bathroom due to that creepy ghost’s crying. Guess Granger must be desperate, I would never use this bathroom! I’d hold it until I could use some other one.” 

“So that ghost is the reason that the corridor was flooded that evening when we found the cat?” Malfoy glanced towards the spot where she had been hung up by her tail. 

“Most likely. Guess that’s about how good a female friend Granger can get.” Parkinson sneered, as if she had just said something triumphant. “Granger and Myrle, best friend crybabies.” 

“What are you even talking about…?” Malfoy looked at the girl with tired eyes. “Why do you think that Granger is a crybaby in the first place? Stop trying to insult her to make yourself feel better.” 

A silence lowered over the group, with everyone staring at either Malfoy or Parkinson. She bit her lower lip, her cheeks turning red before she suddenly turned and hurried off. Crabbe glanced at Malfoy and then followed her, causing Goyle to follow as well, after waving goodbye in a quick manner. More likely than not Crabbe intended on something in between reprimanding and comforting the girl, as he had been seen doing before. 

“Finally someone said it.” Blaise sighed, correcting his own tie with a somewhat relieved expression. “I’m getting so very tired of hearing her lash out at everyone for her insecurities. My head has had far enough of her complaints, thank you very much for that.” He patted Malfoy on the shoulder before leaving on his own, seemingly heading towards the next lesson as he didn’t really have any investment in waiting for Granger to finish. 

As Harry, Malfoy and Neville were left alone, Neville turned towards the other two, giving Harry a hesitant expression. “There is something else I think you should know…” He licked his lips and glanced around. “About Colin Creevey, during the game, he was trying to get onto the field and take photos, but was removed from it. Then he came back to the stand, but he wasn’t really all that focused on the game. When you fell, he took photos of it and… well… all that is kind of messed up but during the evening of the night when he was petrified… He was talking about sneaking out and seeing you.” 

Harry felt as if his stomach had turned to ice, causing him to shudder. He moved his working arm around his body, trying to not look as uncomfortable as he felt. A foul taste has risen in his mouth, one he tried hard to swallow down. “He was trying to… come ambush me in the hospital wing when I was too ill to go back to my bed?” 

Malfoy made a disgusted face over hearing what Neville had said. “Isn’t he creepy enough when he’s always trying to sneak photographs of Lupin? Was he really trying to get to him after such an event?” 

Neville shrugged, clearly equally uncomfortable as they were. “He was apparently talking about it with some other first year students in the common room, and someone overheard him.”

“I propose we call him Colin Creepy from now on…” Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, clearly upset and even angry with the way the eleven year old was behaving towards his friend. 

Harry wanted to object and tell his friend that what he had just said wasn’t really acceptable, yet after Dobby’s uncomfortable behavior and Creevey’s insistent stalking, he didn’t have the energy to actually argue with Malfoy about it. The behavior really was creepy, and he didn’t want to defend it in any way, even if he logically knew that the child was simply misguided and needed someone to tell him off properly. Yet that person shouldn’t have to be Harry himself, it should be an adult who could actually get through to the boy. Just as Harry shouldn’t have to be the one to stop Dobby from behaving the way he did, but at least in that situation, there was nobody else to turn to. 

The son of a werewolf made up his mind to talk to Professor Snape about it, so that when Creevey was no longer petrified, the man could talk to the child about leaving Harry alone. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” Hermione joined up with them, removing some hair from her face as she spoke. She quickly noticed the change in attitude with her friends, and that her group was significantly smaller than when she had entered the bathroom. “Is everything alright?”

“We were just talking about Creevey.” Neville informed her, causing her to nod. 

“When he wakes up, he really must be reprimanded properly for his behavior towards Harry.” The Gryffindor girl agreed. 

“I was thinking of something else.” Neville spoke up, frowning as he tried to formulate himself. He also looked a little guilty, as if changing the subject wasn’t something which he was allowed to do. “Is anyone planning on staying at Hogwarts during the Holidays?” He looked around upon the group. 

“I’m probably going home to dad.” Harry absently played with his cast as he spoke. “I think he’d be very worried since the parents have been informed about the attack on a Muggle-born student. With everything that is happening, I think it would be nice to go home for a while.” He gestured towards his arm. 

“I’m staying.” Hermione’s voice was a strange mix of emotions. She clearly didn’t want to say or be asked any more about it, so nobody furthered the topic. 

“I’m going back home.” Malfoy shrugged, yet he avoided looking anyone in the eye. There was an undertone to his voice, which Harry could identify as nothing else but hesitation or doubt. 

“I was thinking of staying too.” Neville confessed. “My grandmother is… kind of a lot… and I think it would be nice to get some time away from her and not be forced to attend so many things.” 

Hermione looked very happy to learn that she wouldn’t be staying alone, almost looking like she wanted to hug him. 

The bell interrupted their talking, leaving the students to part ways for their respective classes. Harry found himself alone with Malfoy, and took the time to summarise that he had met the House Elf again, as he really hadn’t explained to anyone what happened during the Quidditch game. He ended up telling him about the uncomfortable behavior which the elf had displayed, and told his friend with a look of shock how the creature had decided to burn his own hands with what seemed to have been an ironing tool for the sake of punishment. He couldn’t help but speak off the elf’s behavior as frightening, shocking, uncomfortable, but mostly abnormal.

Malfoy’s expression turned strange as he spoke about the House Elf, whose name he was neglecting to mention for the sake of protecting Dobby from attentive ears who might hear the conversation. Harry assumed Malfoy to be equally uncomfortable as him with the way the creature was behaving, and didn’t think too much about the way the other reacted to the information. He mostly just needed to talk about it to get it off his chest. 

During the conversation, he once more mentioned the rogue bludger, leading to Malfoy mentioning that the person who had stopped the dangerball was Theodore Nott, who had blown it up with a Reducto spell. They got slightly off topic in having Harry acknowledge that he needed to thank Nott for not only warning him of the ball but also stopping it from beating his head in. 

“Either way,” Harry got back to his point while also wrapping the conversation up. “I think, I hope, I might have gotten through to the House Elf. I hope he won’t hurt himself anymore for the sake of a punishment which nobody ordered.” 

“I… would hope not.” Malfoy was staring in front of him, absently looking into something within his own thoughts. “House Elves don’t usually listen to anyone but their Masters or their household, so… I do hope that you are right…” 

Harry thought about asking him if everything was alright, but the second ringing of the bell told them that they were late for their lesson in Magic History, thus they rushed off to arrive before the teacher had any real reason to remove points from their House. Harry mentally prepared himself for another lesson of being called Mr. Riddle, as Professor Binns still seemed to confuse him for whoever that student had been. At least Malfoy was still Malfoy, even if he was called by some old relative’s first name. 


	11. Chapter 10 - in which Justin Finch-Fletchley has an awful week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he looked up, Harry smiled at the Hufflepuff student, who looked at Harry with a mix of fear and terror. Harry slowly turned, realising that everyone was staring at him with either fear or straight up terror, only the Slytherin students looked at him with surprise. Even Hermione and Neville had turned pale. 

About a week passed, with the Holidays coming closer, and with them came the first duelling club lesson. Harry’s arm had not yet healed, but he could write just fine with his right hand, and Crabbe and Goyle had both offered to help him with his bag. He thankfully accepted their help, and was glad to learn that his friends didn’t mind in the least. 

Meanwhile Hermione was stubbornly spending time with Malfoy in particular. Whenever there was opportunity, her, usually with Neville in tail, worked together with him for school projects. As the group of Slytherin students were usually together, it sort of resulted in the two Gryffindors spending time with all of them, but it was rather clear that Hermione made a point out of Malfoy being her friend. The boy in question never rejected her or acted against her again, and they seemed to get along rather well as they did have a lot in common once they talked about learning and books. Yet it was clear that he was still a little nervous about people’s reactions after all the accusations aimed towards him. The accusations were still whispered now and then, they hadn’t automatically stopped just because Hermione tried to make a statement. However, her actions caused a clear positive change in Malfoy. The state of his nails in particular had improved a lot since she began spending more time around him to prove that he wasn’t dangerous. 

Nonetheless, the time for the duelling club had come. Lockhart had repurposed a classroom meant for smaller exams into a dueling arena, placing a gold and blue stage in the middle of it while clearing the room off chairs and desks. Somehow, it felt like he was defiling the integrity of the exam hall with the way he had decorated everything in gold and blue. It seemed vulgar, somehow. 

Lockhart was welcoming all the students from atop his stage, smiling and waving and signing autographs as it was asked of him. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what people were still asking for autographs when so much time had passed since the year started. Surely nobody had waited this long to actually ask for one? 

“Everyone gather around, please close those doors, thank you!” The clock struck six and with it came the enthusiastic voice of Lockhart. He turned towards his audience, smiling his award winning smile as he faced them. “Now, how pleasant to see you all here tonight, thank you for coming. As you all know, I am Gilderoy Lockhart and I will be leading you through this lesson. Duelling can be very frightening but fear not! You are in good hands. With me as my assistance, I have the joy of welcoming Mr. Professor Snape to the stage with me.” He turned and showed towards Professor Snape, who seemed like he regretted every life choice he had ever made. He gave a glare towards the students, as if warning them that anyone who applauded would have a hundred points removed from their House. 

“Does he think he is on a show or something?” Malfoy mumbled to Harry, his face reflecting everything Harry felt in regards to this supposed lesson. “Who is he even… performing for?” 

“I don’t know, but I fear for the safety of anyone who dares applauding.” Harry whispered back, and they both tried very hard to not giggle together. 

“Now, allow me to give you a quick introduction to duelling,” Lockhart had been waiting for the applause, but none came, leaving him no choice but to continue. “Now, a Mage duel is a formal practice in magic culture in which two or more mages engaged in combat under the condition that only magical means could be used. The combatants face each other and bow.” Lockhart turned towards Professor Snape and bowed. The Potions Master returned it, how he managed to make a sign of submission and respect appear to be an act of disdain was beyond Harry’s understanding. 

“This bow is seen as a sign of respect,” Lockhart continued, somehow missing what everyone else in the room knew, namely that the Potions Master had no respect for him whatsoever. “Before they placed themselves in an accepted combative position and, at the count of three, attempted to disarm, stun, injure, defeat, or kill each other in order to force submission, and thus a winner would be decided!” The man excitedly continued. 

“Of course,” while Professor Snape made no attempt to raise his voice or yell over the crowd, he was perfectly audible, perhaps more so than Lockhart was. “There will be no injuring, defeating or killing somebody in this class. You will merely be focusing on disarming one another.”

“Ah, yes, of course. We shall now demonstrate the spell you shall be practising today, the disarming charm: Expelliarmus.” The author tried to wrestle the attention back onto him, as to not make himself seem incompetent. It seemed that in his excitement to present duelling, he had forgotten about the spell which they were about to teach. “Well then, Professor.” Lockhart bowed again, and Professor Snape returned it. 

The two turned, took three steps each on the stage, and spun around towards one another. Lockhart was far too slow, he didn’t stand a chance. The Potions Master spun around with the swiftness of a bird of prey, he flicked his wand and pronounced the name of the charm. He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was clear and the spell well articulated. 

“Expelliarmus!” 

The golden smiled man’s wand flew out of his hand. He looked after it like he was honestly surprised over having lost the duel, but then caught himself and laughed to hide his earlier stunned silence. “Good! There you have it, girls and boys, the disarming charm. Give the man an applause.” Lockhart was the only one who dared applauding. 

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Professor Snape had elected to assist with this whole club idea for the sake of damage control and protecting the students from Lockhart’s practical teaching abilities. 

“Now, where is my wa- oh thank you Ms. Parvati.” The man whose face was more smile than other features got his wand handed back to him. “Allow me to show you how to properly cast the charm.” He spent a few minutes going over the proper gesture and how to hold a wand in a duel. Just like usually, he was perfectly capable of teaching the simpler spell to them. When he had finished, he looked out over his audience. “Now then, who wants to try first? How about you, Mr. Weasley?” The man’s eyes seemed to have fallen on the bright red head which belonged to Ron Weasley. 

Harry couldn’t quite see what was happening, as he was standing too far back to see what was unfolding so close to the stage. It seemed like Weasley was being pushed forward towards the stage, with people snickering and giggling in his wake. Something seemed to be wrong, but Harry was too far away to make out what. Ron Weasley crawled onto the stage, looking red in the face and clearly uncomfortable, but Lockhart didn’t seem to notice anything amiss at all. 

“Now, for Mr. Weasley’s opponent.” He scanned the crowd once more, but Professor Snape spoke up before he could make a decision. 

“Malfoy. Come up on the stage.” 

Malfoy glanced at Harry and the rest of his friends, giving them a confident grin before making his way to the stage. Harry waved him off, trying to not be too worried about the whole situation. He had full faith in Malfoy as a spell caster, he had lived with him for almost one and a half years now, and was well aware of the values which his family enforced. It was not a stretch to claim that the Malfoys saw themselves as aristocratic, thus, it didn’t surprise Harry or his friend that Draco Malfoy was already familiar with the technicalities around duelling, even if he didn’t have any real experience of it. 

Malfoy had mentioned that Professor Snape was a good friend to his own family at a few points, and while the blonde boy was far less favoritised by the Potions Master than other students wanted to believe, it was true that he relied on Malfoy as being a capable magic user who was usually able to perform under pressure. Despite popular belief, Professor Snape did not pick Malfoy to demonstrate a lot of things because he liked him and wanted to give him points, but because he believed in the boy’s ability to be capable of what was asked of him in place of putting students under unnecessary pressure. 

Lockhart was not satisfied with just a few duellants on the stage, he wanted more, thus continued to pick until at least six people were standing on the stage. Harry thought that they were far too many, something which Snape seemed to agree to, yet Lockhart would hear none of. 

“Every duellant!” The author called. “Ready to bow and...turn!” 

The people on stage bowed and turned their backs towards one another. Malfoy looked far more graceful than any other person on stage, both in holding his wand and in his movements. He had clearly practiced this before, proving that the Potions Professor had been right in choosing him as a good example. 

“One… two… duel!” 

The situation quickly went out of hand. 

The students started screaming curses, hexes and charms at one another instead of the intended spell, spells flying all over the place. Ron Weasley had cheated in turning around after two steps, trying to aim a spell at Malfoy. The ground next to the blonde wizard more or less exploded, causing Malfoy’s face to turn pale as he threw another spell at Weasley, who managed to duck away from it. Harry could see the stress in Malfoy’s eyes as he seemed to recall that his opponent’s wand was broken and might not even be casting the right spells. 

The green eyed boy looked to Snape, trying to yell at him to stop the duels before someone got hurt. Professor Snape seemed to be trying to do just that, but the whole room had erupted in shouting from both duelists and the audience. 

The ground once more exploded in front of Malfoy, who jumped back and cast another spell. Harry could tell by the way he moved his wrist that he had not cast the disarming charm this time. Something long and thin escaped from Malfoy’s wand, taking the shape of a snake. The animal had its eyes focused on Ron Weasley, but all the thumbing on the stage seemed to confuse it, causing it to stay swaying in place. 

The rest of the room seemed to notice the snake at once, causing screams and people who backed away over one another. The snake was enough of a distraction that the duelling quickly came to a halt, everyone backing away from the hissing, angry animal. It had been a perfect way to stop the commotion and make certain Weasley wouldn't attack again. Professor Snape reached forward with his wand, about to dispel the creature but Lockhart yelled. 

“Allow me!” He confidently pointed at the snake with his wand. 

The snake was sent high up in the air, and came crashing into the audience, who screamed and yelled, escaping from the now enraged animal. The snake was so very disoriented and frightened that it turned towards the first person who was unlucky enough to not have backed away quickly enough. The snake moved forward, opening its mouth as it approached the Hufflepuff. 

“Wait, stop!” Harry didn’t really think when he screamed at the snake, he hadn’t really expected anything to happen, but to his great surprise, something did happen, the snake stopped. 

It hissed, turning towards Harry. They looked into one another’s eyes, and without words, Harry understood what the snake was feeling. She had just appeared in a room full of people, and everything was so very confusing, every one of her senses were burning with too many impressions, and something was trying to hurt her but she didn’t know what. 

“It’s alright…” Harry slowly approached her, she raised herself up and hissed at him, yet he sank down in front of her, slowly extending a hand. She hissed again, her long tongue dancing in front of her face. “You’re scared, I know what it’s like to be overwhelmed. Come here, you can hide in my sleeve. I will help you back out into nature again.” He felt her tongue on his fingertips before she slowly moved forward, escaping inside Harry’s sleeve. He could feel her curl up in it, leaving him to try his best to keep her steady with his almost functioning left arm. 

When he looked up, Harry smiled at the Hufflepuff student, who looked at Harry with a mix of fear and terror. Harry slowly turned, realising that everyone was staring at him with either fear or straight up terror, only the Slytherin students looked at him with surprise. Even Hermione and Neville had turned pale. 

“Lupin is a Parselmouth!” From somewhere, someone yelled, causing ripples of feared whispers to erupt through the crowd. 

“...heir… 

“The Heir of…”

“Chamber of Secrets…” 

“He’s the Heir of Slytherin!” 

“The Heir of Slytherin!!” 

“Parselmouth!!”

Harry blinked, suddenly surrounded by screaming voices and having fingers pointed at him. He was feeling the world swim in front of his eyes, everything becoming a mystic collection of painful colors and painful sound. Somebody was by his side and he was led out of the room, away from all the noise and lights which had stopped being people. Harry’s breath left him in quick, rapid pants, and he didn’t quite understand where he was until he found himself in Professor Snape’s office, where a cup of steaming hot tea was being placed before him. 

Harry blinked a few times, slowly coming to comprehend the world again. He noticed that not only Professor Snape was with him, so was Malfoy and Goyle. Harry didn’t know where Blaise, Crabbe or Parkinson had disappeared to, neither did he know where Hermione or Neville was. The two boys looked at him with worried eyes. 

“I didn’t… I don’t…” Harry tried to speak but Professor Snape gestured towards the tea, urging him to drink. Harry did, and immediately felt calmer as the warm liquid filled him. “What… happened?”

“You were amazing.” Goyle breathed before anyone else had the chance to speak up. “You saved that Hufflepuff boy from being attacked by Malfoy’s snake.” 

“What actually happened…” Professor Snape sounded somewhat tired, although not mad at his student for being impressed. “Is that you seem to have a rare gift. You appear to be a Parselmouth, one who comprehends and speaks the language of snakes, referred to as Parseltongue. Have you spoken to snakes before in your life, Lupin?” 

Harry thought about it as he drank some more tea. “There was… When I was younger and played in the garden, I used to talk to the snakes which I found. They were those harmless types of snakes which really just like to cuddle up in the sun and be warm. They didn’t… talk to me per say. but I always felt like they understood me. I thought it was normal.” 

“Does your father know of this?” Snape inquired with distant interest in his eyes. 

“I told him about it, and he didn’t seem to think it was anything other than normal. Wait, yes, he also called it a gift and…” Memories were coming back to Harry as he spoke, once which he had mostly forgotten. His dad’s gentle voice was softly telling him about the ability to speak with snakes, and how some thought it was a sign of a Dark Mage. Remus had told him that it wasn’t true, but that people weren’t likely to be understanding when they encountered something frightening to them. “He also said that it was rare, and that people might find it frightening if I did it in front of them. I had completely forgotten…” 

The Potions Master nodded slowly. “What did you say to the snake?” He continued, looking at the son of a werewolf with stern but not cruel eyes. 

“I just told her not to hurt that Hufflepuff student, and that there was nothing for her to be frightened by.” Harry summarised. 

“Can you speak to her now?” The man glanced at his sleeve. 

Harry gently placed his arm on the table, moving his hand aside. “I’m sorry to bother, but could you come out? My Professor would like to look at you. It’s calm down here, nobody is going to hurt you.” 

The response came in the form of a small, soft voice. _“No.”_

“Please? He is not as scary as you might think.” Harry urged her. 

_“No. I’m sleeping.”_

Harry sighed and looked up at the Potions Professor, giving him an excusing smile, one which unbeknownst to him made him remind a lot of his dad. “She says that she is sleeping.” 

“Lupin, you’re hissing at us.” Malfoy told him, crossing his arms over his chest with a displeased look on his face. “Can’t you tell when you are switching between the languages?” 

Harry blinked, before he slowly shook his head. “I sound normal to me.” 

“Still hissing.” Goyle spoke helpfully. 

The son of a werewolf thought very hard about what to say, and then slowly spoke up once more. “How is this?” 

“That’s English.” Malfoy concluded, looking satisfied now. 

“She said that she is sleeping. I think that she would really like to be returned to the wild as soon as possible.” Harry turned his attention towards Professor Snape. He hesitated, but then continued before the man had the chance to switch topics. “Why did everyone suddenly call me the Heir of Slytherin? I’m not, and I have alibis for when both Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey were attacked. They… did they decide that I am the Heir of Slytherin because I am a… Parselmouth, was it?” 

The teacher looked his students over. He locked eyes with Malfoy for a second, it was easy to tell from just looking that the two of them had some manner of understanding pass between them. Malfoy glanced to the side afterwards, clearly hesitant over something. 

“Salazar Slytherin was one of our history’s most famous Parselmouths. It is the most prominent reason as for why his House symbol is a snake. Throughout history, many Dark Mages in Britain have chosen symbols relating to snakes to represent themselves or their followers. This has led to the magic society associating snakes to dark magic, despite them never truly having any connection to the Dark Arts.” The Potions Professor explained. “Many famous Dark Mages have been Parselmouths, but that does not mean that there are no records of other magic users who could converse or understand the language. Still, history is far more keen on remembering warnings than it is remembering the common people. Just as with werewolves, history remembers the cruel ones, rather than those who hid away with their disease as to not cause harm to anyone.” Harry immediately felt better after the teacher likened his situation with that of his dad’s, where people were likely to misunderstand because of fear and misinformation. 

“It is likely that your ability will make you a target from people who fear the Heir of Slytherin. I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore about addressing the school about it tomorrow during breakfast.” The man concluded. “Finish your tea and hurry to return to your dormitory.” He waved at Harry’s cup, which the boy hurried to empty. 

The three boys returned to their dormitory after Harry finished his tea. When they were no longer in the same room as the teacher, it quickly became clear just how excited the other two were about Harry’s gift. They almost spoke over one another in their excitement to learn more about other snake’s Harry had spoken with. 

Harry himself found it rather strange that he was somehow able to speak a language which he had not practiced or knew that he could speak, but his friends enthusiasm was enough to make him feel like maybe, just maybe, this was actually a gift. 

Harry quickly came to change his mind about the exciting prospects of being a Parselmouth, as it seemed that the rest of the school had pretty much decided that Harry really was the Heir of Slytherin. He noticed the change as soon as he stepped inside the Great Hall. The looks and whispers which had followed Malfoy had been enough to make the blonde boy stressed out of his mind, but it was nothing compared to the noise which followed Harry. If they had been certain that Malfoy was guilty before, it was little compared to the conviction with which they accused Harry behind his back. 

Just getting to the Great Hall the following day was hard enough, having to sit in it with everyone whispering and pointing at him made Harry almost want to run away from the hall and go hide in his bed where he had left the snake to rest until he could let her out properly the following day. 

Professor Dumbledore stood up, calling for silence. Most people turned towards the Headmaster with displeased expressions, expecting him to try and call for peace or state something which wouldn’t calm them in the least. The students were frightened, they wanted something done before another victim appeared. Most seemed to want to lock Harry up, or remove him from Hogwarts altogether. Others were complaining about the Hogwarts Board of Governors to not be doing their jobs properly. The old wizard had to call for silence once more before the talking finally calmed down. 

“Thank you. I stand before you once again to speak of what took place yesterday during the duelling clubs first meeting. Yet before that, I would wish to speak to all of you about another matter which I’m sure most of you have already familiarised yourself with through your studies. Not too long ago in non-magic history, a terrible tragedy took place. A plague swept across the world, a plague of fear and hatred driven by the Muggles’ fear of magic and the existence of witches. Your history books mention this story in passing, stating that hardly no magic individual was hurt or killed during this period. It brushes it over by further discussing what spells to cast if you find yourself upon a stake. Yet our books, our history neglect to mention what became of the Muggles. While the sources differ, current scholarly estimates of the number of Muggles who were executed for witchcraft vary from about 40,000 to 100,000. The total number of witch trials in Europe are known to have ended in executions is around 12,000.”

The Great Hall was suddenly filled with whispers of a very different kind, as the entire school tried to imagine the numbers which had been placed before them. Harry didn’t personally know of this fact, and just the thought of it was very shocking. So many people dying, and nobody really cared to tell or remember. He saw Malfoy look pale, and stare towards Professor Dumbledore with an expression which Harry really couldn’t read or understand from where he was sitting. 

The Headmaster let the students speak for a while until he called for silence. “We have the names of the actual mages who perished memorised, but we cannot even begin to list the names of those many Muggles who died tragic, painful and completely senseless deaths. Such is the way of history: we more often than not seek to remember that which affected us negatively, rather than speak of what effect it had on other people. Or we forget to record that which had no or little effect on us personally instead, making it disappear in history.” 

“Such, I implore you today to think of Parselmouths. Their history has been recorded as evil, while there were so very many who never harmed or affected their world negatively in any way. In turning towards yourselves, trying to find the enemy, you risk burning hundred of innocents for the sake of easing a fear which you can control by the use of compassion and love towards your fellow people. Do not let yourself become victims to the plague of fear, fight it. Once more, I seek you to stand together in your hearts, and look not to your next with hatred, but with love. Thank you.” He sat down as the room slowly filled with a slow applause. Slowly, it became stronger and stronger, until it felt as if the very ceiling above them would be moved by their cheering. Those who the Headmaster had managed to convince cheered for his words, cheered for love and the message which the old wizard had imposed on them. At least for that moment, they all believed in his words. 

When the cheering finally died down, Professor Dumbledore spoke once more. “As I am certain a lot of you have heard, it has recently come to light that Mr. Harry Lupin happens to be a Parselmouth. It was discovered during yesterday’s duelling events. This does make him guilty of nothing, least of all being the Heir of Slytherin. I ask that you all leave Mr. Lupin to his own devices, and seek not to confront or hurt him in any way. He has had alibis for all attacks, as confirmed and witnessed by myself, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. Once more, thank you for your time. Please resume your breakfast and enjoy the food.” 

The following days, things were comparatively calm. The accusations towards Harry disappeared almost entirely, leaving him to focus on his studies for a while. He was really thankful to know the teachers had dealt with the matter for real, and actually spoken up where nobody would have listened to Harry. He was very thankful towards both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. It felt like things had gone back to almost normal, or however normal life at Hogwarts could become. 

Hermione and Neville had been a little nervous to speak about Harry being a Parselmouth, but after receiving an explanation of what had actually happened that day, they both became less tense about the subject. Hermione even engaged in a venture of her own in trying to track down Harry’s ancestry in an attempt to prove that he wasn’t related to Slytherin at all. Neville had a little harder to adapt to the idea of his friend being a Parselmouth, but he was slowly coming around to it. Since Harry wasn’t actively going around speaking to snakes, and he hadn’t had any other accidents with messing up his English, there really was no reason for the Gryffindor boy to feel like things had changed. 

Harry and his fellow Slytherin second year students were heading towards their Herbology class, only to find a note on the greenhouse door which stated that all classes were cancelled for the rest of the week. The friends looked at one another, feeling somewhat surprised to learn that they had two entire hours off before they needed to do anything else in terms of school.

“I don’t want to go study or anything like that…” Crabbe sighed. “Can’t we just count this as a break and go visit Hagrid?” He looked over at Goyle, who nodded excitedly. 

“I bet he wouldn’t mind giving us some of his amazing tea.” Goyle looked excited and hopeful. 

“Ew. How could that oaf have any food worth eating?” Parkinson huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Then why don’t you come with us and we will prove you wrong?” Crabbe challenged her, staring down upon her smaller form. 

She looked hesitant at first, but then slowly nodded. Crabbe had been right at most things since he came into her life so far, thus she decided to trust him with this as well. The three asked if anyone wanted to come along with them, Harry was about to say yes when he remembered the snake who had stubbornly refused to leave the last days. This seemed to be the chance to actually let her back into the wild. 

“I have to let the snake out before I take a tea break.” Harry held out his undamaged arm for his bag, but Malfoy took it from Goyle before Harry could. 

“I will come with you. If we really have to let her out…” He sighed, looking displeased with the idea of having their sort of pet snake leave them. Malfoy had come to enjoy the snake, and she liked his pets in return. However, to have her living in Harry’s bed and moving around freely in the castle in an attempt to chase mice was not really the way to handle a pet. Professor Snape had already told them to get rid of her once more, and had threatened with removal of House points if they didn’t. It seemed that the time had come for her to leave. 

“We do. If you want a proper snake pet, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind buying it for you.” Harry patted his shoulder, smiling at the boy who helped him with his bag. 

“I…” Blaise looked around and then walked over towards Theodore Nott. “I’ll go with Nott, I suppose.” He waved to his group and walked up to the boy, who grinned at him as he came over. 

“Wanna see this little thing I’m tinkering with?” Nott began looking through his pockets to find whatever it was he was talking about. 

“I’m fine, really.” Blaise shook his head, causing the boy to look disappointed as he pulled his hands from his pockets. 

“Oh, Nott!” Harry hurried to call out to him before the boy had the chance to leave with Blaise. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner, but thank you so much for saving me during Quidditch, with the bludger and… well, all that.” 

“You’re welcome!” The somewhat rabbit-like boy turned to look at Harry, giving him a happy grin. “That sure was a thing, I’ve never seen a bludger behave like that.” He spoke in a very quick pace, almost as if he expected the person who he was addressing to grow bored with him and stop listening if he didn’t speak fast enough. 

“I’m very thankful. It was a rather strange event.” Harry smiled back, trying hard to not think of Dobby, who had all but confessed to being the person behind the attack. 

“Actually… how did you know that spell?” Malfoy questioned, frowning at the other Slytherin student. “I don’t think that’s a spell which twelve year olds are supposed to know.” 

Theodore Nott looked the blonde wizard in the eyes, his expression twisting in a grin with a look of madness and excitement. “Survival of the fittest.” 

Malfoy and Harry looked at one another, none of them finding any words to answer him. Blaise sighed and pulled Nott away with him, clearly not feeling like standing around while his friends thought of something to answer the tinkerer. 

“Let’s just… go get the snake.” Harry couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

They found the snake asleep under Harry’s pillow, where she had escaped from the noise of the boys when they got up in the morning. The green eyed boy sat down on the bed, talking to the snake until she finally agreed to be taken back to her natural environment. She slowly left her little makeshift house and slid into Harry’s sleeve, allowing him to carry her out. 

They took a side path as to not run into people, chatting absently about whatever came to their minds. Harry asked his friend about duelling, which led to Malfoy explaining some of his family’s history and how they had come to value such traditions as duelling and dancing, among others. Malfoy spoke about both dancing and duelling as the most natural thing in the world, he was clearly not ashamed over being a competent dancer in the least. Harry felt like he might have been slightly nervous or uncomfortable with being good at dancing, making him respect his friend all the more for finding dancing natural. 

Harry and Malfoy walked up to the Forbidden Forest, where Harry crouched down and lowered his sleeve, carefully urging the snake out. Malfoy petted her goodbye, as did Harry. They both watched as she slowly slithered off into the forest, disappearing without a trace to prove that she was ever there. Next to Harry, he heard how Malfoy sniffed. Upon looking at him, he found that his friend had become slightly teary eyed, but he tried to hide it from Harry by turning his head away. 

“It really is for the best.” Harry reached out to pat his back. 

“I know, I know… I’m just…” Malfoy didn’t manage to finish his sentence, as another sob escaped his lips. Harry searched for his handkerchief but realised that Malfoy never returned it after he borrowed it last time. The blonde searched through his own pockets, and found a handkerchief of his own, which he used to dry his eyes with. 

“Is that one mine?” Harry asked with a slightly amused smile on his lips. 

“What? No…” Malfoy looked down at the small, white sheet of fabric. “I gave that one back.” 

Harry reached out, pulling on one of the corners to reveal a badly embroidered L. The speed with which Malfoy’s face turned red was highly humorous. He sheepishly handed the handkerchief back, too embarrassed to remember that he had just used it to wipe his tears with. Harry accepted it. “I will clean it myself. Thanks for handing it back.”

“I… I will get you a better one for the Holidays or… something.” Malfoy sighed, avoiding to look at him. He almost seemed to think of something when he mentioned the Holidays, causing a distant expression to appear on his face. “Say… Lupin? I was thinking of… Maybe staying at Hogwarts during the Holidays.” He looked over at the forest, seemingly trying to avoid Harry’s eyes. “If I do, Crabbe and Goyle, or at least one of them, is probably going to decide to stay with me. Not that I need it, but I…. I’m not… I’m still thinking about it.”

Harry hesitated in return, looking his friend over before he smiled at him with a careful and gentle expression on his face. “Are you worried about staying?”

“No!” Malfoy answered far too quickly. “I mean that I… I… Alright, fine, I am a little worried about it. I’ve never been away from my house for almost nine months, and it feels very strange to not see my mother. Father is sometimes busy for very long stretches of time, I feel like it will be… easier somehow to not see him. Yet my mother… I’m practically home-schooled in all things magic, etiquette and such, and she was my teacher. To not see her feels… very abnormal.” 

“Then why do you want to stay?” Harry understood his friend’s reasoning very well, he had also been home-schooled by his dad and had rather few friends in the Muggle world altogether. It had felt very weird to imagine not seeing him for almost nine months. Harry wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be willing to neglect the chance to go home, especially with everything which was going on right at that time. 

“I don’t think that… I need to…” Malfoy was clearly hesitating, he had now come to simply study his own hands, as if he had never seen them before. “...I haven’t decided yet, but right now I don’t know if I want to go home. Don’t ask me about it yet, I still have to figure this out for myself.” His words might have seemed harsh, but Harry didn’t perceive any ill will in his words, leading him to believe that Malfoy spoke that way due to stress. 

Harry looked him over, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll let you take your time. I’m here for you when you need me.” When. Not if. 

The blonde wizard smiled back at him, looking a little tense. He might have been about to say something more, but they were interrupted by a happy voice who greeted them. 

“Hi you two.” The voice came from the Forest, causing both to turn where they found Goyle and Fang, who had appeared a little to their left, walking out from the Forbidden Forest. He didn’t look harmed in the least, instead, he looked happy and as if he was completely safe. 

“What are you doing going into the forest?” Malfoy was clearly relieved that he hadn’t been hurt, but his expression was annoyed nonetheless. “Are you mad?” 

“N-no…” Goyle looked a little sheepish over the accusation. “We’re just helping Hagrid set up a few traps. The roosters have all been killed in the pen, and he suspects that something from the forest might have gone after them. So we’re helping secure the premise.” He pointed towards the wrinkly dog, who had wandered up to Malfoy to demand attention. Despite his sour look, he was already petting the dog. “Besides, according to Hagrid, as long as you are with him or Fang in the Forbidden Forest, nothing will actually hurt you," the boy responded. Harry concluded that Goyle probably meant none of the things which regularly occupied the forest, and not say, hiding Dark Lords. 

“The roosters have been killed?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Specifically the roosters and no hens?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird isn’t it?” Goyle agreed, scratching the back of his head. “And their bodies were just left there, so whatever did it might not have been an animal, I guess?”

“Who's a good boy? You are, yes you are.” Malfoy cuddled with Fang, whispering praises in the kind of voice only a true dog lover would just to speak to an animal. 

“Just left there… So was any of them eaten at all?” Harry continued, looking at his friend while the blonde wizard was busying himself. 

Goyle shook his head. “Crabbe said that it might be a student, but I think that makes even less sense than if it had been something from the woods. I mean, whatever reason would a student have to get to the roosters? And then just leave them there and not try to hide their crime by hiding the bodies of the animals? That seems more weird to me than the idea of it being something from out there.” He waved his hand towards the Forbidden Forest as he spoke. 

Fang had rolled over, and was now getting his belly scratched. 

“Yeah, that does sound rather logical.” Harry agreed, causing the other boy to smile happily at him, proud over having made a logical argument for his beliefs. “Are you busy then? Maybe we should give Fang back?” He chuckled as he glanced at his friend, who sadly separated himself from the dog. 

“Sorry.” Goyle addressed the blonde, who pretended to not want to cuddle more with the dog. “Since Hagrid is busy, he said we’d have tea later. So I suppose you two are heading off to do something else then?” 

Harry and Malfoy looked at one another, then nodded. “We’ll be back in the dorm.” Harry spoke for them both. 

“Bye Fang.” Malfoy sighed after the animal as the two small groups separated and went on their ways. Goyle ventured fearlessly back into the Forest with Fang by his side, something which Harry found very impressive. He was sure that he never wanted to return to the Forbidden Forest, even if it was only a short trip which didn’t bring him that far into it. 

“You got some dog slobber over your shirt.” Harry pointed out as they returned back inside the castle, taking the same side route back again. 

“I do not… Oh, I do…” Malfoy grunted. “I will remove it with magic when we get to the dormitory again. I’m not risking accidentally burning a hole through my shirt where I can be seen.” 

“You’re not that bad at magic.” Harry couldn’t hold back his laughter, chuckling as he spoke. 

“I’m certainly not, but there is no telling what might happen when you cast a spell in just any environment. I refuse to leave room for error.”

They two of them rounded a corner, only to come to a halt almost as soon as they did. In front of them hovered one of the castle ghosts, but it was not appearing like the ghosts usually did. It was no longer see- through, but seemed to be black, as if the usually smoky white substance which made up the ghost had become black smog. It took them a little longer to realise that a person was standing behind the ghost, unmoving. The two friends looked at one another and then carefully moved closer. 

The person was a young boy, most probably around their own age, dressed in Hufflepuff colors. He was still, his eyes glossed over, and his expression one of terror. Harry did not recognise him as the same student who he had previously saved from the snake. When they were capable of seeing who the person was, Harry felt himself relax somewhat, to his great shame. Both he and Malfoy seemed to have thought the same thing, namely that the still someone had hexed the ghost into its current state. Yet the boy had been petrified, standing unmoving, in the middle of trying to pull his wand from its pocket. 

“We have to get help.” Harry quickly came to understand that despite them both being relieved that they hadn’t caught any criminals in the act, they had still found a petrified person who needed help as soon as possible. Harry turned to look around, trying to recall which classroom was the closest to their location. He quickly sprinted off towards it with Malfoy hurrying behind him. 

“Lupin! Lupin wait!” The blonde boy wasn’t screaming, but he had raised his voice. “We should just leave it be, someone else will find him and report it. We don’t have to get involved.”

It seemed that he was about to say something more but Harry wasn’t stopping and he wasn’t listening. He ran up to the door to Professor McGonagall’s classroom and hurriedly knocked on the door, opening it before he was actually told to come inside. 

Professor McGonagall looked insulted that someone had bothered her class, which she seemed to be holding for a group of fifth year students. However, her expression turned troubled when she saw the expression on Harry’s face. 

“Professor! Another student has been attacked.” Harry hurriedly blurted out. “Please, you need to come right away.” In hindsight, it might not have been the best action to just blurt it out, but Harry was very stressed. It felt like if he could just get the student help as soon as possible, he could somehow be saved. It was illogical, and it wasn’t true, but somewhere in his chest filled with adrenaline and fear, it felt like an adult might truly be able to help the Hufflepuff, if only brought there quickly. 

The teacher excused herself from the class, hurrying off alongside Harry, who lead her straight to the spot where they had found the ghost’s body floating and the Hufflepuff boy’s petrified body. The look on her face upon seeing the scene was one which Harry would not be able to forget through the rest of his life. Just like Professor Snape had a lot of complicated expressions which Harry couldn’t quite understand in their entirety, the Transfiguration Professor’s expression was complicated, and raw. She was clearly frightened, but there was so much more written on her face than just that, shock, guilt, lack of understanding, so many emotions mixing into a look of regret. 

She turned away from the Hufflepuff boy’s face, looking like she was about to break into tears. Not tears of simple sadness, but tears of so much more. This more was undefinable to the young boy, but he could tell that it was there. 

Malfoy had hid from the door when Harry opened it back at McGonagall’s classroom, but as he was now standing a little behind Harry with a nervous expression on his face, the green eyed boy concluded that Malfoy had followed them back and not ran away like he probably wanted to. Professor McGonagall turned towards them, looking them over. 

“I… have to call for more teachers… Both of you, you came to me right away when you found him?” They both nodded in response. “Why were you not in class?” Her eyes turned a little sharper as she asked. She wasn’t suspecting them of attacking the boy and the ghost, but she was suspecting them of something. 

“We were supposed to have Herbology class.” Malfoy responded. “But it has been cancelled, it seems to have been cancelled for the rest of the week, according to the note on the door, presumably left by Professor Sprout.” He glanced at the boy. “He was very likely alone out here for the same reason as we.” 

The Professor nodded, seeming to only half hear what Malfoy was saying. “Good… I must handle this situation here, both of you return to your common room, do not speak of this to anyone. It will be addressed by the Headmaster first thing tomorrow, I do not want people to gather here, is that understood?”

Both Slytherin students nodded, beginning to slowly move around the boy and ghost, heading back towards their common room in the dungeons. As they walked, the Professor called after them. 

“Fifteen points to Slytherin. For your choice to find a teacher before spreading chaos.” 

Despite the situation, Harry and Malfoy couldn’t help but to give each other a smile each, one which they quickly tried to suppress. This truly wasn’t the time to feel proud over some silly House points, but it did feel good to know that at least for the moment, the choice which Harry had made was worth being rewarded for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Serpensortia (the snake summoning spell)**  
>  In the canon description of this spell it seems to create and summon a snake into existence, as it is a conjuring spell. Dealing with Rowling's chosen ideas about magic is rather difficult, as it often does not correspond with societal advances or different problems to solve in the canon. 
> 
> We have decided that Serpensortia does not create a full living snake anew, as the implications about creating such advanced life with a simple spell wouldn't hold for the world building to make sense in the slightest. 
> 
> What the spell in our works does is summoning the first available snake in the vicinity. However, rather than Rowling's mention of it being used by snake charmers, it's more likely to simply do the summoning and infuse the being with magic, and the reason for the snake charmers to have their abilities are more likely to be related to other charms or being Parselmouths. 
> 
> (Yes, if used carelessly one could literally accidentally steal someone's snake.)
> 
> If someone is thinking of a very specific snake, it is possible to summon that snake in particular if it isn't too far out of reach. 
> 
> We have decided for this same effect in regards of the Slug Hex, meaning that slugs aren't created or transfigured inside someone, but being summoned to the person from a radius around them. This would also mean that the effect would be far milder in the middle of a city than that of out in the forest. Once summoned, even if appearing relatively slowly, the slugs will not be summoned again as the spell is relatively instant, and the radius isn't too wide. This partly because this is a very dangerous Hex which could choke someone alive on the creatures otherwise, and not a matter of jokes or easy to cast.  
> 
> 
> **Parseltongue (the snake language)**  
>  In the canon works it seems to have been completely neglected that snakes do not have eyelids, neither do they have ears or hear in the terms most would consider hearing. This would mean that speaking to snakes would be impossible, as even their own hissing is considered something they do by reflex, because they more likely than not cannot hear it. They can however feel the effect of lower octaves in the air, as they sense the vibrations. In general, snakes communicate and hear through vibrations.
> 
> Aside from being a magical ability, the Parseltongue spoken in our works is a strange hissing language at low octaves which causes vibrations the snakes recognise, as well as it is a form of telepathic connection between speaker and snakes. The snakes aren't really speaking to Harry, but the human mind experiences and translates it as a sort of hissy language in lack of better understanding.


	12. Chapter 11 - in which Remus Lupin returns to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I simply wished to assure myself that your travels went safely.” The old wizard stood up, giving Remus a smile which was somehow too young for his face, and mischievous enough to perfectly compliment the rest of his features. “Now then, are you quite ready to return to Hogwarts?” 
> 
> What else could he do but stare at the man? He had no words which could possibly explain what he was feeling at that moment, causing him to express everything with a look of sheer disbelief. 

_Dear dad,_

_how are you? Please take care of yourself and remember to take care of the garden. It’s getting colder every day so try and harvest what you can before it freezes over._

_Last time I wrote, I said that I would be coming home for the Holidays, but things have changed slightly. I understand that you are worried about me with everything that is going on at Hogwarts, and I assure you that I am not doing anything to try and place myself in trouble. However, a lot of my friends are staying over the break, such as Hermione and Neville. Now I have learnt that Malfoy has decided to stay as well, and I am hesitant to leave him alone. He doesn’t seem to be doing that well, and I’m sure you will understand when I say that I want to be there for him._

_That House Elf hasn’t showed up again, which I’m very happy about. I really hope that he won’t be coming back again, but since he did show up once at Hogwarts, I’m afraid he might do that again._

_I have not heard that sinister voice again. I did believe it might have been the pranks of a ghost at first, but I am not so certain if it actually is. I hope that whatever it was that was hungry found food and can rest easy wherever it is._

_Please take care. Remember to take your potion and be careful during the rough nights._

_I love you and I will miss you greatly during the Holidays, but I know that you will understand._

_Your son, Harry_

  
  


The idea of not spending the Holidays with his son was a strange one. Logically, Remus understood his child’s need to be there for his friend, he was not the type of man who would discredit the meaning of friendship just because his son wasn’t an adult yet. Friendship could mean equally much to a twelve year old person as it could to a twenty year old person. Yet, despite logically understanding it, it was very hard to accept that he wouldn’t see his son until another four and a half months. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. 

Thus the werewolf got to thinking of ways in which there might be a way for him to at least see Harry for a little bit during the break. After all, he knew that Hogsmeade was just outside of Hogwarts, and that he could very likely rent a room. There was no full moon that entire week, so he would be more than safe to be around. If he wrote to the Headmaster, it was more than possible that Dumbledore would allow Harry to spend some time outside of Hogwarts as to allow father and son to at least spend some time together. 

After the plan had formed in his head, Remus wrote to his son and asked him if he minded if his dad came over to Hogsmeade during the Holidays so that they could at least see one another. Soon after he received a very excited letter back, one which was overjoyed to have Remus come over. 

With his son’s approval, the werewolf proceeded to contact Albus Dumbledore to ask for permission to have Harry come visit him in Hogsmeade, while arranging for a room at the Hogsmeade Inn. The process was smooth enough, everything coming together without too much of a hassle. Remus had to take out some of his saved money to be able to rent a room, but he felt like it was well worth it. 

It was the day of the 24th of December. Remus had arranged to meet with Harry on the 25th, where they would celebrate during the day and then have Harry return to Hogwarts for dinner. They hadn’t strictly planned anything for the next day.

Remus looked over his bags, checked once more that he had remembered to pack his son’s present, and then apparated to the same spot which he had taken Harry to in the beginning of the school term. Hogsmeade was a pleasant enough village, it was small and not very lively, but people were clearly living there. Just glancing over the village was enough to tell that it was busier than usual, leading the werewolf to conclude that some people were spending the Holidays there. 

He left for the Inn, and was able to check in without any problems. He thanked the woman behind the desk and headed upstairs, carrying his bags with him. The Inn itself was very cosy. It was connected to a bar and from the glance Remus had towards the menu which was set up behind the bar, they offered a variety of appealing food. He didn’t doubt that he would have a pleasant celebration here when Harry was celebrating at Hogwarts. 

Remus arrived at his room, unlocked the door, and ventured inside. He almost immediately came to a halt as he discovered that he was not alone in the room. Upon the edge bed sat Albus Dumbledore himself, seated as if upon any other chair. He smiled softly as he spotted the werewolf, and nodded his head. 

“I apologise for borrowing this seat without your permission, but my legs are not what they used to be. I’m afraid standing took far too much out of me.” The Headmaster excused himself. “It is very good to see you, Remus, was the travelling pleasant?” 

“Uh, ah… yes.” The man was trying to wrap his head around having the arguably most powerful mage in the world right before himself, in a run down and small Inn of little importance. It wasn’t really acceptable to just show up in a person’s room, but Professor Dumbledore had never been a conventional man. In reality, Remus had every right to be upset with the old wizard for the way he had decided that he had the right to invade his room without permission. It was strange, more than a little breaking of privacy, and Remus had the right to be upset with the action. 

Still, Remus didn’t find this room to belong to him. Neither had he been there long enough that he had left anything valuable or private there. Despite all his reasons to be upset, Remus concluded that he didn’t have to be upset, thus decided not to be. At least in this scenario, which was unlikely to happen again. 

“May I ask the Headmaster what he is doing in my rented room?” Remus carefully phrased his question as he pushed his bags under the writing desk in the room, glancing at the old wizard as he spoke. 

“I simply wished to assure myself that your travels went safely.” The old wizard stood up, giving Remus a smile which was somehow too young for his face, and mischievous enough to perfectly compliment the rest of his features. “Now then, are you quite ready to return to Hogwarts?” 

What else could he do but stare at the man? He had no words which could possibly explain what he was feeling at that moment, causing him to express everything with a look of sheer disbelief. 

The Headmaster’s expression somehow became even more mischievous. “Why, tonight is Christmas Eve as the Muggles say, today is a night of celebration before the busiest day of the year. At least that is what they say in the world of Muggles.” He chuckled as he walked towards the door, opening it. “I shall be waiting for you down by the bar, so that you may freshen up a little should you wish. Tonight’s dinner is grand, but not quite as grand as the one which will follow.” 

With those words and a happy grin, the older man left, leaving Remus to stare at the closed door. He didn’t really appreciate someone just barging in and demanding he changed his plans for the day, but then again, he didn’t really have a plan for the day in the first place. 

Had he just really been invited to Hogwarts for dinner? Was that even allowed?

He frowned at the door still, trying to figure out a reason as for why Albus Dumbledore himself had come to pick him up for dinner, but nothing really came to mind at first. It was a little strange that someone would go so far for the sake of a father being allowed to see his son during the Holidays, causing Remus to believe that there might be something more to the old wizard’s kindness. He was a little worried it might have something to do with the supposed murder plot or the situation with his son, hopefully there weren’t any bad news to report, but it seemed more likely than not. 

Nonetheless, he was still invited to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore himself was waiting for him. Remus hadn’t really packed for a fine evening dinner, and Hogwarts was by no means an actual fine dining place, but he had a feeling that he would feel a little underdressed in what he was currently wearing. Thus, he took the time to wash himself off quickly and change his clothes before he walked back down to meet the Professor by the bar. 

Professor Dumbledore had seemingly been conversing with one of the barkeepers throughout the wait. In front of him stood a mostly finished tankard of honey mead. He smiled as he spotted the werewolf, standing up from his seat while thanking his conversation partner for her time. 

“Shall we get going then? I am certain young Mr. Lupin will be overjoyed to find that his father is joining in on the festivities tonight.” The old man added some extra money into the tip jar before heading towards the door, and thus Remus to followed him. 

The walk back to Hogwarts was pleasant enough. Remus was nervous at first, but the old wizard was far too pleasant and charismatic for the younger man to feel uncomfortable for all that long. Soon, they were pleasantly involved with a political discussion about the changes of history which they were personally bothered by. The Headmaster himself was very pleased to announce that he had recently had the opportunity to talk to the entire school about the falseness of their recorded history in terms of the terrible witch hunts which primarily took place in America and Europe. After that, they fell into a discussion about the witch hunts, getting somewhat lost in that topic. 

Hogwarts itself was just as Remus remembered it. The huge castle still seemed impossibly grand, the entrance hall alone was bigger than three of his and Harry’s house. Simply standing in the entrance hall made so many memories come back. The paintings were the same, although there were more of them by now, and the hour glasses with the House points stood proudly in the exact same spot. The old Gryffindor couldn’t help but try and judge if his House was doing well or not. It was doing decent, but not as decent as the other Houses. 

Professor Dumbledore allowed the werewolf to sort his emotions about being back in Hogwarts, as he could tell that Remus quickly had become overwhelmed by a lot of emotions. When the younger man turned back to him, the Headmaster smiled, leaning his head to the side with a soft expression on his face. 

“Are you quite ready to continue?” His soft, melodic voice was not in any way upset or displeased with Remus, helping in not making the man feel guilty for pausing. 

“It even smells the same.” He chuckled as he followed the old wizard. “However that is possible.” 

“I trust your judgement of that.” The Headmaster smiled as he led the man into the Great Hall. 

Said Great Hall was devoid of people, but all the more filled with decorations and trees which had in turn been decorated as well. From atop the enchanted ceiling, snow was falling, but disappeared before it had the chance to reach the tables. Said tables had been pulled to the sides, allowing only for a single dining table which would host all the people who had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the Holidays. Remus looked around, unable to halt the smile which had spread on his face. 

“How nice. Are there many Muggle-born students who stay at Hogwarts during the winter?” He turned towards the old wizard. “Seeing as to why there are so many Christmas trees?” He had never thought about it when he was younger, seeing as not even the British mage society could escape the Muggle world’s Christmas spirit. It had seemed very natural to him that the trees were there, even if he had never really considered them over the winters he had stayed as a student. 

Professor Dumbledore nodded. “The idea of decorating a tree isn’t exactly originating from the Muggle tradition known as Christmas, but it is what most Muggles and Muggle-borns recognise it as. Thus, it is something we have included since long to make those students feel more at home here. It is right as you say, many of those who do stay are the students who no longer feel at home or welcomed in a non-magic society, thus choosing to stay here. Most mages simply accept it for what it is, and think little more of the decorations as anything other than festive.” 

The Headmaster picked one of the decorations off the table to study it. Remus wondered what he was seeing in it, until the man chuckled to himself. “As I grew older, I was never quite confident upon looking at myself in the mirror. The beard truly does hide a few features which I’m not comfortable with, however…” He wagged the golden, round ornament in the air. “Even my reflection becomes a delight when looking at myself in this.” 

Remus glanced at the reflection which Professor Dumbledore was holding, finding a round face with a big nose which looked absolutely nothing like the old man’s actual face. He chuckled. “I guess having a golden face isn’t that bad?” Remus tried to joke back. 

“I do wonder if I would look better with a silver face…” The Headmaster mused as he began looking for a silver colored ornament instead. 

“You wanted to see me, Headmaster.” 

Remus had not heard him approach. Yet as soon as he heard the familiar yet foreign voice, he knew exactly who had spoken, and he would likely have even if he hadn’t seen the man earlier the same year. 

Severus Snape was a man of average size, with black hair in the exact texture which Remus remembered. Age had not been cruel to him yet it had not honed him into something more beautiful than he had been as a teenager. All his features were still there, although more prominent, the bags under his eyes, the hawk-like nose, the dark eyes and the thin lips which Remus knew to be fully capable of producing smiles but seldom did. 

Even with the man standing a few feet away from him, stubbornly fixing his eyes upon the Headmaster, Remus could feel his scent. Back at the beginning of the term, he hadn’t been able to feel it due to the meeting happening outside, but in here, he quickly felt his nose fill with the scent of the man. He smelled of potion materials, of strange mixes of scents, both pleasant and less pleasant. There was such a mix that it was hard to pinpoint, yet Remus adored the way the scent made him dizzy. It was a very convenient excuse to hide the feelings currently welling up inside him. 

“Indeed, Severus. Thank you for coming.” The Headmaster placed the ornament back onto the table, turning back to the two men. “Before I let you off on your ways, I would like to speak with you both about some arrangements I would like to make. Should we speak in my office or in the teachers' lounge?” He looked between them both. 

Remus noticed that Snape glanced up at him, allowing their eyes to meet for just a short second. In that second, there was nothing in the man’s eyes, but just being looked at made the werewolf’s heart beat faster. He was fighting very hard to suppress the urge to touch the man. Nothing elaborate of sorts, just offer a handshake, something simple like that. He was so close, it would be so very, very easy to just… gently brush his hand against the other man’s. Just to know if those rough, strangely smelling hands still had the capability of being gentle, just like they used to. That was far inappropriate to think and Remus quickly buried those thoughts below others of wondering how the man’s life had been since they graduated. Even if thoughts weren't crimes, and people had the right to think freely of their desires, he truly did not want to disrespect the man, or confuse himself further.

“I’d prefer the teachers' lounge to your office, Headmaster. I find it less… cramped.” The Potions Master spoke his mind, causing Remus to agree in a manner which made it unclear if he had been following the conversation at all. 

“Well then, is there any of your own tea blend left in the lounge?” The old wizard began to walk, almost humming to himself as he did. He evidently expected them to follow. 

Once more, the two men’s eyes met. This time, Snape didn’t look away quite as fast. Remus seized his chance to speak up.

“...Hi.” 

“...Greetings.” 

“How… are you?” 

“Pleasant enough.” 

“That’s… nice to hear.” 

“Mm.” 

Snape looked ahead once more, beginning to follow the Headmaster who had reached the end of the Great Hall by now. It was sort of clear that the other was more than a little awkward and strained. Remus followed him, looking at the man’s back as he trailed after him towards the teacher’s lounge, wherever that one was located. As he did, he couldn’t help but think about a lot of things. The walk itself wasn’t that long, but to the werewolf, it felt like he managed to think about everything in the world during that short walk. 

In actuality, he thought of Severus Snape. 

In precision, he thought about something which Harry had mentioned to him in one of his letters this year. However, it wasn’t quite as simple, because it was tearing up scars of the past which Remus had attempted to move on from and forget.  
  
His son had mentioned how the Malfoy boy had lashed out to hurt their Muggle-born friend by calling her a Mudblood. It hadn’t been particularly surprising for Remus to find that the child of a man like Lucius Malfoy would do such a thing. The father had left quite the unpleasant impression. However, Harry had been very clear about the circumstances of what happened, and it had indeed sounded like the Malfoy boy truly had regretted it all. It had been very relieving to hear that Harry and his friends had managed to talk to one another and make up after the incident.  
  
Still, he had also felt a different set of emotions back when he had read the letter declaring how Hermione Granger and Harry had both decided to forgive Malfoy for his mistake. 

It felt a little too familiar with his own teenage years and what had happened back in their sixth year of schooling at Hogwarts. These children had been younger by far, and still somehow managed to solve the complex situation in a straightforward manner which saved their friendship. While he was immensely proud over Harry and his friends, Remus found himself feeling a bitter sense of regret welling up within him, one which made him feel as if he himself had failed where his son had succeeded.  
  
Back in his sixth year, when his newfound friend and closest person had lashed out and called Lily Evans, Harry’s birthmother, a Mudblood, things had turned out very differently. It had been a complex mess in comparison to the Malfoy boy simply making a mistake.  
  
Severus Snape had been Lily Evans' childhood friend. They had been far closer than Remus imagined Malfoy and Granger to be, and Severus himself was a Half-blood, not actually belonging to or having been taught the ideals of Pureblood wizard families. However, Severus had also been a victim of bullying, and torment by other people. Remus didn’t want to think back just about how terrible it had been, because every time he did it filled him with regret for never quite having spoken up to stop it. He did once, but it hardly counted after a good six years of it. Worse yet, it had been James Potter and Sirius Black, Remus’ own friends, who were the worst tormentors of the Slytherin boy. 

Remus could make a lot of excuses about it if he tried. He was a werewolf, he hadn’t expected himself to ever have friends, and therefore had never really dared question or defy them back in school. There was a part of him which wanted to simply claim that they had all been misguided children. No matter what he tried to tell himself, the matter of fact would always be that he had stood there and let it happen. Even after all these years Remus hardly found himself deserving of all the attention and assistance which Severus had given him for the brief year in which they had been close to one another.  
  
Further, during the spring term of their sixth year, something had started changing at Hogwarts. Slytherin students mostly, but even some other Pureblood students, had started referring to themselves as Death Eaters, after the terrifying ideology which the Dark Lord was trying to force upon the world. They were simple misguided children, allured by the promises of being superior to others, among other reasons. While some of those students terrorised and hurt Muggle-borns, it was nowhere near what was happening out in the world, no matter if they used the same title to refer to themselves. As an adult, it was easy to see how the discrimination against the Slytherin House must have affected a lot of them into feeling comfort in labelling themselves as superior. However, not all of them had joined because of those reasons. The Death Eaters at Hogwarts had formed a sort of society of their own, where they very much cared for and included one another, protecting them from anything and everything if needed.  
  
In the end, it had been a matter of fact that Severus had been tormented, hurt, unjustly put in danger and had his life risked at the hands of his bullies. It had been a matter of fact that Lily Evans never managed to stop it, even if the girl had tried valiantly for years. It had been a matter of fact that Remus never did anything to stop it, and by the time he had attempted to actually help Severus, he was far too late.  
  
The day Severus had called Lily a Mudblood had been the day when the torment had ended, and when the boy had finally found safety with people who would protect him against James and Sirius. Remus knew that Severus never believed in any of those ideologies, and he had tried to confront the other about the reasons why he had called her Mudblood back then, only to find Severus admitting that he had decided to hide where he was safe.  
  
Back then, Remus hadn’t been able to quite forgive or accept the idea that Severus would choose to be around such harmful people. He had wanted to think Severus was better than that.  
  
Of course, as Remus grew older he had realised just how unfair he had been towards the other. Nothing else had saved Severus, and with everything Sirius had said and done summarised, it wasn’t possible to claim that Remus had kept better company. He had wanted to apologise to Severus for years afterwards, and even with the rift which had been created between them, Remus only ever remembered Severus fondly. Yet, when he had finally come around to fully forgive Severus for his mistake, it had been far too late, and Remus knew he regretted how he had handled the whole matter immensely.  
  
Then suddenly, his son sent him a letter proclaiming that none other than Severus himself had, albeit in a strained and distant manner, comforted Harry and helped him through the situation. Of course, it was hard to know exactly what had happened based on Harry’s retelling of it, but it was clear that Severus had advised the children to make up again, and it seemed to have been helpful. Remus had sat in his living room for hours the evening he received the letter containing that very information, just wondering and imagining how Severus had felt about such a similar scenario to their own past.  
  
What stuck with Remus the most was the fact that Harry had explained how when he asked if the Potions Professor had many regrets in life. Apparently, the man had lashed out as if to scare the child into never asking again. Remus knew Severus to be a very controlled individual who did not want his emotions to show to the world around him, making him conclude the other must be very hurt to actually do such a thing, especially towards a child.  
  
There were so many things to regret in what happened in the past, and during the war afterwards. Remus had felt something strange knowing that Severus seemed to hurt still, and that it wasn’t entirely unlikely to think the other man regretted how everything had ended back then and how everything had continued on afterwards, and that it wasn’t just Remus who wished for things to have been different.  
  
It had made him want to speak to the other again. It had made him determined to want to try. It had given him courage to speak to the other. 

Yet here he was and barely managed to utter anything of sense next to the man. Remus didn’t know where to begin and what to do, and was rather frightened of the idea of the other rejecting his desire to reconcile. A part of him was currently hoping he would have a chance to at the very least apologise to the man, properly, for not having listened like he should have back then. 

They reached the teachers' lounge, where Professor Dumbledore entered first and waited for the two men. He had a rather curious look on his face, one which was both happy, knowing and expectant. Remus let the other man in first, then entered after him. The lounge smelled of a mix of tea and coffee. It was not designed as a place to eat with a lot of people, but a calm, quiet place for some rest between lessons, and a cup of a beverage of choice. It seemed that Severus’ beverage of choice was tea, as he had just gone to prepare some for the Headmaster, as requested. 

Professor Dumbledore sat down on one of the sofas, calmly looking over at Remus until he realised that he too was supposed to take a seat. He sat down opposite of the old man, expecting him to wait until the Potions Master had joined them, but instead, Dumbledore spoke. 

“As I am sure you know that I have other interests in mind than simply allowing a father to see his son over the Holidays, which I would not hesitate to do, but as you have concluded, there are other matters which I would like to discuss with you.” The man smiled gently as he looked at Remus, his words spoken with kindness and honesty. 

Remus nodded in return, having assumed that there was some ulterior motive to the man’s invitation. He wasn’t mad or upset about it, as he knew that it wasn’t likely anything cruel, and he would still get to see his son, so he didn’t quite mind. Still, he could not help but feel a tad worried about whatever it was that the Headmaster wanted from him with all the worrying things happening in their surroundings. 

“Have you perhaps had the displeasure of encountering a book by the title of _Wanderings with werewolves_?” The old wizard asked, studying Remus’ reaction. As the werewolf scrunched his nose with dislike over the title of the book, the man continued. “The author of that book, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart is currently employed as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher here at Hogwarts, as you might know.” 

Remus nodded as Severus returned to them, placing a cup of steaming tea in front of the Headmaster. The tea smelled of many strong scents and was red as blood. Remus couldn’t help but stare at it. 

“Thank you, Severus.” The Professor continued. “At the end of last year’s school year, when the school lost its current Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, we sought to hire another one. Through unfortunate circumstances, we were not able to find anyone but Professor Lockhart who was willing to take on the job as it was. His contract is only active for this very year, allowing us to search for a more fitting replacement in the subject.” He paused, making certain that Remus was following. “As of yet, I have not managed to find a replacement for the man, thus I wanted to speak with you. How would you like becoming a teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Lupin?” 

Remus stared at him. He had heard the words, but he couldn’t quite comprehend them. He felt a strange rush of excitement and happiness, as well as disbelief washing over him alongside those positive emotions. 

“I… I couldn’t possibly…” The werewolf heard himself stammering, responding without truly wanting to give that response. “With the way I am, I would pose a danger to the children…” 

“You have raised a child for the past eleven years with kindness and love, without hurting the boy even once.” Professor Dumbledore assured him. “The boy holds you in the highest regard possible. His grades and his previous knowledge speaks well of your capabilities as a teacher. You have published works in your name, which do qualify you for the position.” 

Remus blinked, now opening and closing his mouth. “But the students… there are likely to be times when I cannot properly teach them due to the side effects of… my condition.” Everyone present knew that he was speaking of being a werewolf, and the effects should the potion not manage to remain in perfect health during the terms. 

“Which is why Severus is here with us now.” The old wizard smiled, showing towards the man with a soft smile on his face. “He has agreed to cover for you in case your condition would prove to interfere with your work. You would be working closely together to allow for the students to have the smoothest possible experience for their education.” 

“Would that not be far too much work for you?” Remus finally managed to address his old classmate in more than five words, staring at him with eyes filled with disbelief, happiness and thankfulness. “How could you possibly be expected to keep up with that amount of extra work?” 

Severus didn’t quite look at him, instead he focused on his tea. “I have already agreed to the Headmaster’s proposal. The only thing it would actually take is for me to hold your prepared classes, likely the day after… that day. It would be little trouble and extra work for me, as long as everything is prepared and you have written instructions for me.” He took a sip from his blood red tea. “It would hardly be very different from being a student here, especially now when you are used to the potion, and less likely to hurt yourself in that state.” 

Remus almost felt teary eyed, looking at the two wizards in front of him. One was smiling encouragingly, while the other was passively looking to the side. Remus could tell by their scents that the two men did want him to accept, Professor Dumbledore more so than Severus, but the Potions Master wasn’t opposed to the idea of having Remus teach. 

“So what do you say?” The Headmaster beamed at him. “Would you like to become the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, starting next school year?” 

Remus almost choked on emotions as he replied. “Y-yes. Yes, I’d… like to accept the position.” 

“Excellent!” The old wizard clapped his hands. “I shall have the papers prepared before your return back to your home. It shall be a pleasure to have you here, Professor Lupin.” He leaned forward to shake Remus' hand, causing the werewolf to blush at his words. Despite having earned the title Professor before accepting this job at Hogwarts, he was still unused to having someone address him by it. 

“As of currently, I do ask that you do not mention this to anyone outside of this room. I would not wish to cause unrest for the students, or do I wish the press to engage in the matter.” The Headmaster continued. 

“I will keep it a secret. Thank you so much for wanting to hire me, sir.” He bowed his head slightly as the man stood up. 

“It is nothing to thank me for, as your merits do grant you that privilege.” Professor Dumbledore hummed. “Thank you for the tea, Severus. I would like to ask you to accompany Professor Lupin around for the remainder of the day. The feast will commence shortly, I do trust that you can spend time around one another for that short amount of time.” With those words, he excused himself and left the room. There had been a very strange knowing look in his eyes which made Remus want to avoid the man’s gaze like that of a guilty dog. It felt like Professor Dumbledore knew more than he logically should about the two men's past connections with one another. 

Remus and Severus looked at one another, before the black haired man stood up to gather the empty cups, removing them from the table. Remus hesitated, looking after him, then slowly gathered the courage to speak with him. 

“Thank you.” 

Severus looked over towards him after placing the dishes to the side, leaving them for the House Elves of the castle to take care of. “You need not mention it.”

“I do.” The werewolf insisted, perhaps a little too forcefully. “It means a lot to me, I… I would not be able to do this without your help. I’m very thankful.” 

Severus sighed, pulling some hair away from his face as he did. Remus had the strange realisation that the man in front of him had changed a lot compared to the boy he knew who almost never showed his face and had continued to hide behind his hair for as long as Remus had known him. “So I’ve understood.” 

The room turned silent again, as they looked at one another. That is to say, Remus looked at him, and Severus sort of looked back. There was no denying that the Potions Master was uncomfortable to be alone with him, even if Remus hadn’t been able to smell it, he would have been able to read it on the man’s face. He wondered why the other was doing this for him when he was clearly so uncomfortable to simply be in his presence. 

There were so many things he wanted to say to the other man. There were a thousand different words forming on the tip of his tongue, dancing in his mouth, bursting in his chest. So very many different shapes of ‘I’m sorry’ threatening to overwhelm him, painful amounts of ‘I missed you’ throbbing with every heartbeat. Words, memories, wishes, all he wished to say, wanted to say, desired to say, yet did not dare to voice. Perhaps Severus felt the same, perhaps that was why the only thing which persisted between them was the aching silence. After Harry’s letter, Remus could almost feel inclined to believe that Severus could potentially, maybe, perhaps even a little, feel the same way about their regrettable past. 

Perhaps they were just that, two men, standing opposite to one another, trying to not let emotion sweep them away to places where they might not be able to escape. 

Severus slowly parted his lips, causing Remus to fear and long for whatever might leave them. “We should return to the Great Hall, your son will be overjoyed to find you there.” 

Could one be disappointed and relieved at the same time? Remus nodded, trying to regain some semblance of self control. “That does sound like a good idea.” 

They left the teachers' lounge without speaking again, walking next to one another as they headed for the location of the feast. They weren’t walking close to one another, but they could have touched if only one of them had possessed the bravery of reaching out to the other. 

“DAD!” Harry’s voice somehow overpowered everything else in the Great Hall as he came dashing towards Remus with a big grin on his face. 

The boy had been sitting by the now only table in the hall, speaking to his friends, their excited chatter mixing with every other happy voice. Still, it seemed Harry had kept an eye on the door, thus noticing both Severus and his dad entering. Harry had ducked under the table, pushing past his Gryffindor friends and rushed over to his dad. 

Remus smiled at his son, lowering down to catch him in his arms, returning the hug. Harry laughed happily as he clung to his dad like an excited puppy. 

“Dad! You came earlier! I didn’t know parents were allowed to visit like this, this is great!” He separated himself from the man, beaming up at him. “You’ll come sit with us, right?” He grinned, already pulling the man with him. Remus glanced over at Severus, for a second thinking of either stopping Harry or asking the Potions Master to come sit next to them. He did neither, allowing his son to pull him away. 

“Everyone, look, my dad came a day earlier.” Harry happily cheered as he returned to sit next to Malfoy. 

“Good evening Mr. Lupin.” The Muggle-born girl smiled at him, lowering her head in a greeting. 

“Good evening, sir.” Neville Longbottom smiled at him as well. 

“Good evening.” Lucius Malfoy’s son was every bit polite, but there were a great many scents coming from the boy which spoke of his inner turmoil. 

Back at the bookstore, where Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley had began fighting with one another in front of the children, Remus hadn’t been able to stop them. However, Draco Malfoy had been able to redirect his father’s attention towards something else, allowing for the fight to cease. It was more than what should be asked of a twelve year old child, but Draco Malfoy had handled the situation with grace and manners far beyond his years of age. Remus was thankful towards the boy for that, yet he hadn’t really had the time to look the boy over properly until now. He had time to properly both the Gryffindors earlier that year, but not the blonde boy. 

Draco Malfoy struck him as insecure. He seemed every bit to be trying to remain calm and in control, trying to present himself properly and with dignity, yet there seemed to be an underlying fear and insecurity to everything he did. Remus couldn’t help but make assumptions as to why the boy had chosen to remain at school rather than returning home that year. Still, he didn’t want to pry, thus finding himself smiling carefully at the boy instead. 

“Good evening all of you. Thank you for letting me sit with you.” Remus greeted them back. 

He was a little hesitant over the idea of sitting and speaking with the children all evening, but he decided that it was worth it if it made his son happy. Luckily for him, Professor McGonagall took the seat right next to him, offering for a much more pleasant conversation partner rather than listening to the children’s topic of choice. It was not that children couldn’t have interesting discussions, but they seldom were as interesting to an adult. The smile which the woman gave him made it very clear that she knew that he had accepted the position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, starting next school year. Remus shyly returned her smile. 

“You’re welcome, dad!” Harry beamed at him. 

“How is your arm? Are you able to move it fine now?” The man couldn’t see any support for his son’s arm, thus concluding that he was most likely at least mostly healed. 

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey says that I should be careful until the start of next year, but that it had healed very well. I had a bit of a tingle in my pinkie, but it passed.” Harry opened his palm and closed it again, turning his hand over with a smile. 

“I’m glad it healed so quickly.” He returned the smile, only to realise that the man who he knew to be guilty of the disappearance of the bones in Harry’s arm might actually be present by the table. He turned to look over it but was glad to conclude that the man wasn’t there. Hopefully he would be busy with some author business in a different place, far away from Hogwarts. 

“Now, Mr. Lupin, may I steal some of your attention?” Next to Remus, the Head of the Gryffindor House called for his attention, causing both father and son to turn towards her. This seemed to fluster her slightly as she managed to explain that she had been talking to the older Lupin, not the younger. 

“I’d be glad to give you my attention.” Remus carefully smiled at her. “It’s been very long, Professor.” The werewolf was not the type of person who quite dared looking someone in the eye as he spoke, yet that was normal and expected of a student speaking to his teacher, thus the woman had never noticed that particular quirk of his. 

“Yes, I do believe we met last when you came to claim your son that night. You have done a fine job raising him, he’s far calmer than any of your friends back then.” She had no intentions of waking bad memories in Remus, and she did in fact not. Instead, she spoke of that which she remembered best, The Marauders' antics back when they were still attending Hogwarts. Remus had been the calmest of them, but that did not mean that he hadn’t accidentally lost his House quite a few points. 

“Why, I still remember the incident with the goose.” The Transfiguration Professor continued, causing Remus’ face to turn a deep shade of red. 

“W-w-hy I’d rather we forgot about the goose…” The werewolf stuttered. 

“What goose incident?” Harry’s face appeared next to his dad’s arm, looking both mischievous and excited. “I’ve never heard about this.” 

“Well… perhaps I shouldn’t…” The woman realised that she might have said too much, but all the twelve year olds looked at her with big, expecting eyes, causing her to give in. “I’m not claiming that your father wasn’t a good student, but he and his friends were mischievous as few other students I remember. He and his friends would always come up with new antics, your biological father was ever unstoppable, and quite the ace in the air, if I do say so. Why both Mr. Potters were quite the mess together-” she was interrupted by Harry, who was staring at her with a confused expression on his face. 

“Wait, both Mr. Potters? I thought that James Potter was the only one with that name.” 

Remus and Professor McGonagall quickly exchanged looks. Neither of them quite knew what to say about Sirius Black, as they both believed that the man might have played a role in the demise of Harry’s biological father and mother. The woman didn’t know how much the son of a werewolf knew about Sirius Black, thus she hesitated to speak at all. 

“Do you remember mine and James’ friend Sirius Black?” Remus carefully spoke up, his voice hesitant yet not weak. 

“Sirius Black?” Malfoy spoke up, looking at the two adults with surprise and a little bit of anger in his eyes. “The man who was imprisoned in Azkaban for his crimes? That Sirius Black? You were friends with that man?” 

Remus took a breath to steady himself. “Yes. That Sirius Black. He is your mother’s cousin, is he not?” 

“Was.” Draco Malfoy huffed. “He was disowned far before his crimes, I… I don’t know why but I know that he was.” He looked like he somewhat lost his wind half way through that sentence. 

Remus gave him a soft look, a look which he had often given his own son when the boy was acting irrationally based on emotions which he didn’t quite know how to deal with. “Sirius was disowned for not wanting to be like his family. He was expected to be something which he was not, and after trying to force him into a lifestyle he rejected, he was disowned by his mother.” 

Professor McGonagall nodded, her expression having turned very sad. “I recall that far too well. The poor boy lashed out at everything at the point, hurting everything to try and not let anyone know that he was hurting himself. How I wished I didn’t have to send him back home by the end of every year…” Judging by the look in her eyes, she truly meant those words. There was no denying that she had cared for the boy, but been unable to help him. 

Draco Malfoy’s expression had turned into a confused and slightly aggressive scowl as the topic was further discussed. He was clearly expecting something different from what he had heard, and was now fighting with his own mind with whether to accept the new information or reject it. Remus had avoided mentioning the Death Eaters by name, as well as avoiding to speak of the Pureblood mentality which had separated Sirius Black from his family. Mostly because it was not a pleasant subject to bring up during any celebratory dinner event, and because the children didn’t need any more reason to have the purity of blood mentality weighing on their minds. 

“What is Azkaban?” Hermione Granger carefully whispered to the boy next to her. Only Neville Longbottom and Remus seemed to have heard her, which was just as well as it was clearly embarrassing the girl to not know. 

“It’s the most high security prison in the Wizarding World with the exception of Nurmengard Castle.” The Gryffindor boy whispered back. 

“Yes, yes.” Harry sounded just a little annoyed, as the conversation had taken quite the turn from where he was originally wanting it to go. “What about Black and Potter?” He tried to return to the original topic so that he might learn more about the goose incident. 

“By the end of our years at Hogwarts, Sirius ran away from home.” Remus continued. “I’m not quite sure what year exactly, but he came to live with James and his family.” 

“I once called him Potter by mistake.” The Transfiguration Professor continued. “It was the first time in months I had seen the boy smile, how happy he had been to not be associated with the name Black after so many years of pain from the name. After that, I made it a personal effort to continuously refer to him as Potter.” She nodded, looking back at distant memories. “I spoke with the other teachers, and we all made an effort to address him as Potter instead of Black. Even now, it’s hard to think of him as Black.” 

The children all looked impressed and a little hesitant, until Harry spoke up. “He didn’t even have to ask for it? I’m a little jealous.” He chuckled. 

Remus had been a little worried that his son might find the resemblance between his own rejection of Potter and Sirius rejection of Black to be uncomfortable to the boy, yet there was no such sign of worry or pain on Harry’s face. Remus smiled at his son, who returned the smile. 

“So what about the goose?” The boy looked ready to slap his hands on the table because he was so curious to know about the goose incident. All the talk of Sirius Black and the man’s past did nothing to stop his curiosity about whatever had caused his dad to blush like that. 

“Ah, yes, the incident with the goose.” Professor McGonagall smiled, remembering where they had been going with all this. “I was holding an advanced Transfiguration class which your father and the two Potters were participating in. The task was to turn a sparrow into a dove. I do leave the students to it, while walking around to give suggestions and corrections. As I do, I reach the table where Mr. Potter, the former Mr. Black that is, and Mr. Lupin, are sitting. Their sparrow is completely unchanged, and neither boy moves at all. So I of course ask them why they are not trying to accomplish the task, whereas Mr. Potter tells me that he has already mastered this spell.” 

“I see how Mr. Lupin winces, but I do not realise what is about to come. Thus, I request that he do back his words up and show me his spell. The boy sits up better, lifts his wand, and pronounces a different spell. Similar, but different enough that it is no accident. The tiny little sparrow suddenly grows, yet it does not stop growing. Before him on the desk is an absolutely giant goose. It gives a mighty honk, silencing every other person and bird in the classroom before it flies right off, colliding with Mr. Pettigrew’s head! Why, the only thing that boy was guilty of was sitting next to James Potter.” 

The children were laughing at the story, Harry most of all. Granger was laughing too, but she seemed far more hesitant than the rest of the children, and might only have been laughing because the Head of her House found it humorous too. The Transfiguration Professor herself couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“It took us fifteen minutes to capture the goose before it could be transformed back without harming it.” Remus groaned, his expression that of a guilty dog’s. “The entire classroom had to be evacuated for the sake of that bloody thing. We lost thirty points that day…”

“Thirty?” Professor McGonagall looked surprised. “Did I really remove a whole thirty points for that?” 

“You did, Gryffindor fell below Hufflepuff that day and could never quite recover.” Remus sighed, but then laughed at himself. “Not that we didn’t deserve it. I remember Sirius mostly laughing while me, James and Peter chased that goose around the classroom.” 

From across the table, far away from them, Remus could see that Severus seemed to be trying very hard to pay them no mind, and listen to nothing which they said. He almost managed to make it seem like he hadn’t heard them. The werewolf truly hoped the discussions weren’t awakening far too many bad memories for the Professor-... other Professor. Oh dear, he had barely come to terms with being a Hogwarts professor yet, it all seemed so unreal. 

“Mh…” Malfoy spoke up when he had finished laughing, turning to glance at Remus. “You were not a Slytherin?” 

The werewolf shook his head, as Harry answered for him. “Dad was a Gryffindor.” 

“So you… were raised by a Gryffindor, and still ended up in Slytherin?” Malfoy seemed to be thinking hard about this, his face having become a deep frown as he once again needed to adjust his way of thinking to fit the new information into his cognitive references. “But shouldn’t you have the same values and type of thinking as one another then? How come you were sorted into different Houses?” 

“Because a person is more than just a fixed set of thoughts and personality traits.” Harry informed him, not sternly, but with a clear, honest tone of voice. “And the Houses do not mean all that much in the first place.” 

Remus smiled, patting his son on the back. “I used to be somewhat different when I was younger. Throughout my life, I have changed values and my way of thinking a lot. Even I am unsure what House I would be sorted into if I put the Sorting Hat on today.” 

Malfoy looked doubtful, but he ended up not having time to object as the Headmaster himself rose by the end of the table, and called for everyone’s attention. 

“To those of you who have chosen to stay or had the choice made for you to stay at Hogwarts over the Holidays, I welcome all to this year’s Holiday feast. We happen to have the pleasure of having Mr. Remus Lupin joining us at our table tonight, you are most welcome.” Some people glanced towards the werewolf, who smiled nervously at them. “Allow me to hold a short speech before we partake in this evening’s delights. You are all treasured students of Hogwarts, and we are indeed lucky to have the privilege of your company tonight. I hope that you can forget all that is bothering you, and that this feast will be but a pleasant forerunner of the feast which you shall all join in on tomorrow. With that say, do eat up everyone.” He clapped his hands, and the food appeared on the plates before them. 

The rest of the evening was very pleasant for Remus. He was a little worried at first, but as time passed, talking became easier and easier. The children weren’t unpleasant, every now and then, Harry would turn to him to confirm something, encouraging the rest of his friends to carefully ask as well if they had specific questions. Most of the evening, he spoke to his old teacher, who shared a few other antics from when he and his friends had been young and lost their House points. Remus was embarrassed by it, but not as embarrassed as he had thought he would be. It seemed that Harry very much appreciated the stories, unbeknownst to Remus, his son was mostly happy to hear that his dad had actually lived a life, and wasn’t always a reclusive Professor who studied on his own and had a hard time leaving the house due to the many intrusive impressions from the world. 

It had become late in the night, and the children were clearly starting to become tired. Some of the older students who had stayed over the winter had elected to go to bed earlier than them. Remus looked over at his son, who looked about ready to fall asleep on the table. Malfoy was blinking a lot, refusing to show any weakness while clearly being tired. Both Gryffindors had come to lean against one another, both trying to not knock the other over with their sleepy swaying. 

Remus and Professor McGonagall looked at one another, both smiling at one another like parents. The woman carefully walked around the table, gently rousing her almost asleep students, and helped them to begin moving back towards their dormitory. She bid goodbye to Remus, who in turn focused on the two Slytherin boys. 

“I think it’s time for you two to head to bed as well.” He placed a hand on his son’s back, shaking him lightly to make him sit up a little better. 

“Ngm… I’m not tired.” Harry tried, but he realised that he was being silly and took it back. “Alright… I am tired…” He admitted, almost pouting. 

“It’s alright, we will see each other tomorrow.” He assured his son, helping him off the bench. Malfoy stood by himself, but he was slowly swaying from side to side, clearly above admitting that he was tired, but also tired enough to not pretend that he wasn’t. 

“Can Malfoy come with us tomorrow?” Harry suddenly asked, looking up at his dad with hopeful eyes. “I know we were going to celebrate alone, but I think it would be fun to bring Malfoy. I can help with money if we need to.” 

The werewolf blinked down at the boy. Of all the things Harry could have said, he did not expect to be asked to spend the next day together with the young Malfoy. Not that he was scared of or didn’t like the boy, it was just something he would never have been able to imagine. He hesitated, not because he didn’t want to say yes, but because there were some very obvious complications with the idea. 

Still, the thing which made him decide to try and arrange for Malfoy to be allowed to come with them was the look on the boy’s face. Malfoy looked lonely and hopeful, ashamed yet excited. It reminded him so very much of himself that it almost felt like he was looking back through time at the young werewolf who would grow up to become him. There was no possible way that he could refuse the boys’ request. 

“I will make certain to write to your mother and ask for permission to take you with us to Hogsmeade. If she says no, I will ask Professor Dumbledore for permission to spend the day at Hogwarts, so that we can all celebrate together. Does that sound like a good idea?” 

The two boys looked excitedly at one another, both nodding quickly. 

“Good.” It was definitely worth it to gather the courage and write to Narcissa Malfoy for the sake of making the boys happy. “But that is for tomorrow, which way is the Slytherin common room? I have never been there, but I do know that it is in the dungeons.” 

Before either student could answer, a nasal voice spoke over them. “You shouldn’t walk around on your own as a guest in the castle.” Severus looked over the three of them. He sighed and avoided looking at Remus. “I will show you, follow me.” 

The walk back was silent as the adults didn’t really know what to say to one another, and the children were far too tired to figure out something to say to the other. They reached a wall, which seemed much like any other wall in the dungeons, where Severus stopped and spoke a password. Slowly, the wall parted, allowing them all to step inside. Remus was hesitant to step through and into the common room, but Harry pulled him in without worrying in the least. 

The two boys had pushed their beds together so that they could talk without having to half shout over the empty room. They were not sharing a bed as much as their beds were simply next to one another. Harry turned to his dad and gave him a big hug. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow dad. Please write to Malfoy’s mother as soon as you can.” He nodded encouragingly as he stepped back. 

“Of course. As soon as I’m back in my room.” By that, he meant that he was planning on apparating back to his home, send a message, and then more or less collapse back onto the bed at the Inn. It was roundabout, but he would do it for the sake of the children’s happiness. “Good night, Harry. Don’t forget to brush your teeth. Good night, Malfoy. Sleep well both of you.” 

“Good night, dad.” 

“Good night, Mr. Lupin.” 

The two boys turned away to get ready for bed as Remus left.

Severus was waiting outside in the common room. He was half sitting, half leaning against one of the sofas in the room, absently staring at the fireplace in front of him. When the werewolf appeared, he raised his head, looking at him instead. In the light of the fire, he appeared younger. His pale skin was covered in the fading light from the fire, casting dark shadows, but also highlighting other parts. Remus didn’t understand why he found the scene so unreal, until he came to realise that he hadn’t seen that much of the man’s face before in such a dim light. Severus no longer felt the need to hide from him, instead allowing him the pleasure of actually seeing him. 

“You’re staring, Lupin.” The other man commented with a dry voice, causing Remus to quickly look to the side. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes averted from the man, instead staring into the fire. “The Slytherin common room is very different from the Gryffindor one. It’s rather dark here, for one.” 

“I have never been in the Gryffindor common room, or do I have any interest in it.” Severus cut the discussion short. 

The werewolf sighed, pulling a hand through his hair. “...You can call me Remus.” He finally found the courage to speak of what he had been wanting to say for a long time. “I don’t really have anyone who addresses me by my name these days. You don’t have to, of course, I wouldn’t force you into anything but…” 

“Lupin it is then.” The Potions Master’s voice was hard and cold, it felt like he had grabbed Remus’ heart and squeezed the life out of it as he spoke. His chest hurt, and he felt the impulse to cry as he was so cruelly rejected. Still, he wasn’t entitled to force the other into calling him by his name, and he wasn’t entitled to decide how close Severus wanted to be.

“A-a-alright.” He managed to mumble out, avoiding looking at the other man as the storm of emotions made him feel like the world around him was swaying out of focus. If Severus noticed how much he had hurt him, he didn’t make note of it, or tried to mend it. Besides, Remus had to accept it wasn’t Severus’s responsibility. He was an adult, he had to accept reality, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In fact, being an adult didn't protect him from any sense of overwhelming feelings, it was no different from their teenage.

The silence lingered once more, with Remus staring at the ground and Severus staring at the fire. The Potions Professor was the first to rise to his feet, looking over at the werewolf. “I believe it’s time for you to return. You’re not a Professor yet, after all.” 

“You’re right… Yes. I have a letter to write as well.” Remus tried to smile, but it might have come off as rather false as he struggled to control his fickle emotions. “Would you show me the way out? I don’t want to get lost in the dungeons.” 

“Of course.” Severus said. Judging by his face, he didn’t quite believe that Remus needed his help to find the way. Nonetheless, he led the werewolf out of the common room and towards the entrance hall. 

During the walk back, Remus wrestled with all the things he wanted to tell the man but found far too honest for him to be saying. Still, he felt like he absolutely needed to say something, just one final thing as to not leave the castle feeling quite this heavy in his chest. 

Severus stopped, almost causing the werewolf to crash into him. “It’s simply straight forward until you find the stairs to the entrance hall. You could not get lost from here.” He pointed down the hallway before turning, not even looking at his old classmate as he made to sweep back the way they had come from. 

“Ah, uhm, wait!” Remus could almost feel the cold walls of the dungeon throw his own words back at him, assaulting him with how desperate he sounded. The Potions Master stopped, but did not turn. The werewolf took that as him waiting for him to speak, allowing him to speak. 

“I heard from Harry what happened with Malfoy and calling Granger… that word. Harry was very distressed over it. He told me that when he needed someone to talk to, you were there for him, and gave him advice. As his father, I’m very thankful that you could help him.” Remus looked at the shape of the man with his back turned towards him, and was unable to separate him from the boy who had done the same thing to him. Only now, Remus knew that it wasn’t Severus who had turned his back to him, it was he who had turned his back to Severus. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were surprisingly easy to say. He had thought them over and over in his head, sometimes whispered them to himself when the regrets became too overwhelming. The words which had seemed like their mere existence was breaking him apart, yet it was the words he longed to speak the most. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be like them, I’m sorry I wasn’t old enough, honest enough or just not mature enough to see your side back then. I don’t have an excuse, there are no excuses I could possibly make. I didn’t understand, I didn’t listen when I should have. I didn’t believe when I should have, I didn’t trust when I should have… I… I wish I could say that I wished to be forgiven, but at this point, I feel like it is all I can do to tell you that I truly am sorry.” He found himself panting slightly from releasing so many pent up emotions at once.

Severus didn’t move, he simply stared before himself. Whatever expression he was making, whatever emotions he was feeling, whatever thoughts passed through his head at that moment were completely out of the werewolf’s reach. He couldn’t even feel his scent from so far away, making him completely blind in whatever the other man’s emotions might be. 

Maybe an eternity passed. Maybe no time at all passed. Remus was staring at the other man’s back, blind to everything in the world but Severus and his own overwhelming feelings of regret. 

Then, Severus responded. His voice was but a weak whisper in the dark, empty dungeons of Hogwarts. “I… was never able to… tell her that I was sorry. Not even when I was standing in front of her grave did I have the courage to speak those words. For so many years, I managed to fill my head with lies, and surround myself with people who would not speak of my cruelty in anything but positive words. I drowned my regrets in lighter fluid, and set them aflame with hatred and bile.” His voice had risen as he spoke, what had begun as whispers was now all but a shout. 

Remus could see that he had balled his fists, he could almost smell the bitter stench of regret and pain coming from the man. He wanted to bridge the gap, reach out to the man and save him from the emotions he was feeling by choking them out with kindness and care. Yet he couldn’t. He was able to tell that if he reached out now, the fragile image of the man might become shattered. Severus was not asking to be shattered, he was asking for nothing but Remus listening to him. Doing more was not welcomed right now, not like this. At least he thought he knew Severus well enough to tell that much.

“I am not as convinced that certain things can be forgiven. That a lifetime of regrets can be undone by such a simple concept as forgiveness.” Severus continued, almost spitting the words out, as if he was trying to remove them from inside of him before they tore him apart from inside. 

“I think that might be right.” Remus agreed with him, surprised by the strength of his own voice. “I think there are things which cannot be forgiven, but that doesn’t mean that the person themselves is always unforgivable. There is no point where someone deserves to suffer all their lives for mistakes they made as children. Even if you believe that forgiveness can’t save you, you still have the right to forgive yourself. Even as adults, I believe that forgiveness of self is the hardest thing to do, but it is still what we deserve to give ourselves.” He wanted to believe in his own words. 

Remus firsthandedly knew how hard it was to forgive oneself, but he also knew that it was something he was allowed to do. Apologising at this point might be nothing but an excuse to make himself feel better, but it might also be what Severus needed. Different people in the same situation might have needed something completely different altogether, Remus didn’t even know what Severus needed at this point, but it felt good to finally have said what he should have said years ago. 

“...I’m not so certain about that.” Severus finally spoke up, then remained silent a little longer. “I accept your apology. I shall see you tomorrow at dinner, but like you said, I do believe that you had a letter to write. Good night.” He started walking again, leaving the werewolf alone in the corridor. 

For the rest of the evening, until he fell asleep, Remus could only think of one thing. Severus had accepted his apology. It might not have solved anything between them, but it had lift a huge burden off his chest. He had addressed the ball of anxiety which had weighed him down for years. He slept very well that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **The Professor title**  
>  As teacher candidates and students working towards a PhD (sort of at least in Swedish equivalent), we are not very comfortable with the idea of Professor being a title one simply gains from teaching at Hogwarts, and that people are picked without proper credentials in teaching. 
> 
> In our version of the series, people aren't finished studying after their years at Hogwarts, if they want to continue onto most professions. 
> 
> Further, one cannot be regarded a Professor without having earned the title through published academic work. 
> 
> Gilderoy Lockhart is technically bordering on not being one, and has lacking credentials altogether, even if his works are considered academic in the sense of discovery.


	13. Chapter 12 - in which Remus Lupin celebrates the Holidays with not one child, but two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The werewolf smiled. “So where are we off to first? I was thinking that-” his son didn’t allow him to finish the sentence. 
> 
> “The Shrieking Shack!” Harry’s eyes were gleaming with excitement and happiness. “I’ve been wanting to see it for ages.” 

_Dear Mrs. Malfoy,_

_my name is Remus Lupin, I would think that you might remember me from this spring at Hogwarts, but I do not like to make assumptions._

_This year, I am celebrating the Holidays in Hogsmeade to be able to spend some time with my son who elected to stay at Hogwarts this winter break. I was invited to partake in the feast at Hogwarts on the 24th of December, where my son and yours informed me that Draco Malfoy would like to join us in Hogsmeade during our celebrations on the 25th of December._

_I promised the boys that I would write to you and ask for your permission to bring young Mr. Malfoy with us during the day, to later join the Hogwarts celebrations in the evening. Without your permission, your son will not be leaving the grounds of Hogwarts. I shall of course be personally responsible, physically and mentally, for both boys and keep them from any manner of harm._

_I wish you a most pleasant winter._

_Yours most humbly,_

_Professor R.J Lupin_

_Dear Professor Lupin,_

_I must state that I envy your choice to stay at Hogsmeade over the weekend as to see your son, I am far busy with activities in my household to have the ability to travel currently._

_I remember you well, as have I only heard good things about your son. You have undoubtedly raised the boy well, which speaks in favor of your character and your competence. I shall make the choice of entrusting you with my child for the day._

_I give my permission for you to bring my son with you to your celebrations, but shall assure myself that he will find himself back at Hogwarts before five o’clock on the 25th of December. I trust that my son will inform me if my trust in you has been broken._

_I have enclosed a small sum of money in this letter to assure that Draco gets a pleasant lunch, use it to give yourself and your son an equally pleasant lunch and use whatever might be left as you see fit. I do not wish to see this money returned to my family in any way._

_With trust,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

It seemed that to Narcissa Malfoy, a small sum of money was the sum which most people would refer to as a lot of money. Remus wondered if she had any idea how much a meal at Hogsmeade Inn cost, or if she really just wanted him to have some money for taking care of her son that day, akin to how one paid a babysitter for their time. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem like Remus had any way to refuse the money, thus surrendering to having had it gifted to him. 

He left towards Hogwarts after having breakfast at the Inn, hoping that he wasn’t too early. When he arrived, he learnt that the children had just finished their food and had headed down to change clothes. The werewolf looked around for Severus, but he was not there. He tried to hide his disappointment as he was invited to sit with Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout and have a cup of coffee as he waited. The two women were eager to share their own favorite activities to do in the village. 

“If you are visiting Hogsmeade, there is only one place which you truly cannot miss. The children are sure to enjoy it immensely.” Professor Sprout was eager, having forgotten her breakfast and tea as she babbled on about whatever came to her mind. She was pleasant enough, although a little loud. “The Shrieking Shack! The most severely haunted building in Britain.” 

Remus had to try very hard to not make a face of any kind as she called the Shack that. He licked his lips, nodded along with her words while trying to hide his true feelings of amusement, fear and nervousness. 

“It might be too much for them… They are not Gryffindors after all…” Professor McGonagall hesitated to agree with the other woman. “No, what children truly enjoy is a trip to Honeydukes. I do not advocate for eating too much candy, but the place is just too lovely to not visit.” 

“No, no, no!” The voice of Professor Binns suddenly joined into the conversation as he half walked, half floated over to their side of the table, bringing his plate of food with him. When he ate, it simply passed right through him, and the man was none the wiser. “The village was a highly important location for all mages during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 which took place in the vicinity of the village. Hogsmeade served as the mages' headquarters during the rebellion. There are some highly interesting historical locations to visit, as well as a museum. To not show your children this fascinating and interesting part of our history would be a shame!” 

Remus nodded. “That would be very interesting, but it is the 25th of December, I’m not sure that the museum would be open today.” He personally thought that the museum sounded interesting, but he wasn’t sure if Harry and Malfoy would. Harry probably would, but he had no idea what Malfoy would feel about it. 

Binns scoffed, angrily biting down on a piece of sausage, seemingly not noticing whatsoever that he had bit into nothing. “History should always be open, knowledge cannot be kept locked away when people need it. Libraries and museums should never have the right to close.”

None of the people present seemed willing to argue with him, causing Remus to try and change the topic. “How about Zonko’s Joke Shop? Does that place still exist?” 

He saw how the rest of the adults turned to him, looking very suspicious while trying not to. Professor McGonagall more than anyone. Remus gave them a weak smile, which made him look none the less innocent as he returned to sipping his coffee. It seemed to him that Zonko’s still offered quite the bit of goods if that was their reaction. 

“Dad!” Harry called for him at that moment, having arrived by the entrance of the Great Hall. He was standing with his friend, both dressed in normal mage clothing rather than the school uniforms. Remus could tell that Malfoy’s clothing was more expensive than anything he had ever even touched, much less worn. It was easy to tell even from far away. 

“Thank you for allowing me to share breakfast with you.” Remus thanked his company as he placed his cup down, walking over to his son and his friend. “Good morning, did you both sleep well?” He held out his arms so that his son could hug him, which Harry did. 

“Like a river troll during winter.” Harry replied. “So? Did you get permission for Malfoy to come with us or are we spending the day at Hogwarts?” He looked both excited and scared as he asked. Behind him, Malfoy was clearly holding his breath. 

“Yes, Mrs. Malfoy gave us her permission.” Remus felt both excited and proud as the two boys looked at one another with pure happiness. It seemed both of them had been more nervous than they had tried to show, now when they no longer needed to hold their breaths, both their happiness and worries did become apparent. 

Remus let them celebrate for a moment before speaking up again. “She gave me some funds for having you in my care for the day, meaning that she is paying for the lunch. You’ll both have to make sure to thank her when you can.” 

Somehow, it didn’t feel that embarrassing to tell them that. Both children knew that the Lupin family wasn’t that well off, there was no need to hide it. They equally knew that the Malfoy family could easily afford paying for their lunch. He had been a little worried that the younger Malfoy might find their whole situation laughable in terms of Remus needing that extra money to give the boys a pleasant day, but the boy didn’t seem to care in the least.

“I will.” Malfoy nodded, speaking as if it was a matter of fact. 

“I will when I meet her in person.” Harry promised. 

The werewolf smiled. “So where are we off to first? I was thinking that-” his son didn’t allow him to finish the sentence. 

“The Shrieking Shack!” Harry’s eyes were gleaming with excitement and happiness. “I’ve been wanting to see it for ages.” 

“You’re not old enough to use ‘ages.’” Malfoy pointed out, looking almost poutily at the other boy. “It’s just a haunted building, it’s not that special. Aren’t you overreacting a little?” 

Harry beamed at him. “I’ve never overreacted to anything in my life.” He flashed his dad a grin, Remus had to try very hard to not sigh at him. Not that he wasn’t flattered, just a little overwhelmed over just how excited his son was to see his old hideout. 

“I suppose that is our first stop then.” Remus concluded. “Have you both got your wands with you? Good, then we’re heading out.” 

The Shrieking Shack was surprisingly small from far away. It almost appeared so strangely small and insignificant that Remus found it hard to believe that anyone truly assumed the building to be the most haunted in Britain. Then again, he was fairly certain that any locals in any place would proclaim their haunted area to be the most haunted in all of Britain. It was resting on top of a hill, covered in snow and boarded up with planks. All that spoke of it not being abandoned was the old sign which claimed that the building was indeed ‘the most haunted in Britain.’ Even the fence looked pathetic, so weak and old that it felt impossible to the werewolf that the fence was standing at all. 

Still, his son looked at the building like it was the most exciting thing he had ever seen. Remus could see how he was burning it into his mind, trying to create such an impression as to never allow himself to forget the building. 

Next to the two Lupin, Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, looking less than impressed with the almost broken little shack which enchanted Harry’s attention so. “I just don’t understand… It’s just a building, there is no noise coming from it even… What makes it so important to see it?” 

Remus felt slightly nervous over the question, causing him to shift uncomfortably in the snow. However, Harry answered without missing a beat. 

“My dad and his friends used to dare each other to set foot in this place all the time. You heard what they were like. I’ve been told stories about them almost managing to get inside it for years. I’ve wanted to see it since.” Harry lied without showing any hints of his lying, instead beaming happily at his friend in a way which reminded Remus of Sirius and James both. 

The man shook his head. It was events like this which made him think that he saw why the Sorting Hat had suggested for his son to pick Slytherin as his House. 

“Either way, let's go inside!” Harry didn’t hesitate to march over towards the gate, marching right in. 

“Harry… Perhaps you shouldn’t…” Remus hesitated before sighing and made to follow his son. However, he didn’t manage to take many steps before he realised that the blonde wizard was remaining by the gate. 

“I’m not so sure that it is… safe to… I mean, that is, I have no interest in approaching that place.” Malfoy crossed his arms as he tried to hide how uncomfortable the Shrieking Shack was making him. “I know that ghosts don’t normally hurt people, but these ones are supposed to be really violent, I do not wish to approach them.” 

Remus realised that the boy had ever right to be frightened. He and Harry were completely calm because they knew that the ghost was only there one a month, and hadn’t been there for years. 

“The ghosts are only active during the night.” Harry responded. “It should be completely safe.” The boy most certainly was a good liar, or he had worked on these explanations since earlier. Regardless of the son of a werewolf’s words, Malfoy was not about to walk any closer. 

“Harry, I will stay here with your friend. You can explore, but I want you to have your wand ready and be prepared to stun anything which comes close.” Remus Lupin had long since taught his son the stunning spell, Stupefy for defensive purposes. He had many reasons for doing so, but they all came back to fearing that his child might be hurt because someone sought him harm. 

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, nodding. “I’ll scream too if something attacks me.” 

“Very good. Be careful.” Remus smiled at him with a nervous look on his face, one he was not faking. Who knew what might have settled in the Shrieking Shack once the rumors of the ghosts had dimmed down with their supposed activity. 

“I will, dad. I promise to only look and not venture deeper without you.” The boy assured his dad, before more or less running up to the building, eager to begin his exploration. 

Remus and Malfoy stood silent for a while, both looking at Harry as he reached the Shack and began exploring it with his wand raised high. They watched him as he carefully circled and tried to peek through the windows, seemingly listening for signs from within. 

“Tell me about Sirius Black.”

Malfoy suddenly spoke up in a way which made him seem very demanding and adult-like, but also childish and nervous. When Remus turned to look at him, he had the kind of look which was often worn by desperate people who tried to remain in control. “You clearly know more than what you told us yesterday, I want to know the entire story. What happened between him and his family? No, I… need to know.” 

Remus licked his lips, thinking about where to start. Malfoy took his silence as a rejection, causing him to take a step closer to the man, staring at him. 

“Please, I need to know.” 

The werewolf turned to look at the child once more, only to realise that he recognised the look on his face as one he had seen Sirius himself make, yet only when he thought nobody was looking. The expression was one of loneliness and fear, one that was wordlessly begging for help but didn’t know how to ask for it with words. Except that Malfoy seemingly did know what he was asking for, and what he wanted to know. He wasn’t entirely certain what prompted Malfoy to need to know so very badly, but he had an idea regarding rejecting family ideals, and the incidents his son had mentioned earlier in the year. It wasn’t impossible to make connections. Thus, it wasn’t really anything he could do but to actually tell the boy.

“I… will tell you.” He gave him a gentle smile, one which seemed to calm the boy. “I’m just struggling with where to begin…” Remus looked back at the Shack, watching his son circle around it. 

“I used to think that we were all best friends. Me, Sirius, James and Peter. In hindsight, as an adult, it is easy to see that we all had different values to Sirius. We weren’t really loved unconditionally in his eyes, despite us loving him unconditionally. By us, I mean Peter and I.” 

Malfoy frowned. “Peter as in Peter Pettigrew? The man Sirius Black killed alongside those twelve Muggles?” 

Remus felt the world sway around him, it meant so impossibly little to the boy, yet that event had stolen away all of Remus’ friends and comfort in life. To hear someone mention it so casually and distant made him feel disgusted. Not by the boy, it wasn’t the boy’s fault. He couldn’t possibly understand what Remus had gone through after that. 

“Yes… That Peter.” The werewolf managed to gather himself. “It’s impossible for me to state with absolute certainty what was happening to Sirius, I only know what I know because of context clues and what little Sirius has actually told me.” He took a deep breath. “The Black family were Pureblood supremacists, back in the days of the war, Sirius’ family’s beliefs about blood lead them to join the Death Eaters. I’m not accusing them, but I do believe in what my old friend himself has told me about his parents and brother. Sirius is the only member left of that Black household, so these words won’t hurt anyone. I’m in no way accusing your mother simply because she was born into the Black family.” 

Malfoy nodded, looking highly uncomfortable with the idea that his family’s beliefs would lead to them being accused of being Death Eaters. He seemed to very much appreciate Remus making clear that he wasn’t accusing the Malfoy family. 

“As Sirius grew older, the pressure from his mother became unbearable for him. He would get letters from her almost every day, proclaiming him a shame to the family, useless, and so much more. It seemed to me that she often wrote to try and bully him into following her will. Sirius grew distant, angrier, more easily hurt. He would lash out at anyone and everything, just like Professor McGonagall said. Once, his anger almost led to a person’s death.” Remus avoided looking at the boy now. “I don’t think I can ever forgive him for that.” While he wanted to make clear the magnitude in which Sirius was likely hurting, he truly did not want to go into detail of what had happened back then with a child which was not involved in the first place. 

The blonde wizard was silent, waiting for him to continue speaking, as if speaking up in the first place might cause the man to never continue with his story. 

“It all culminated into Sirius running away from home. He was always fighting with his mother, his father was dead at that point, and the few times I saw him together with his brother, I always feared for Regulus’ safety. In running away, he was essentially adopted by the Potters and started living with them. To us, that is, me and Peter, he finally seemed happy. He seemed to be calmer than ever, James truly was the only person who could make Sirius feel safe. However, Sirius never really spoke to us. He never told us his problems or what he was fighting with, leaving us mostly unable to help him.” Remus tried to tell the story as straightforward and without emotions as was possible. Yet he could feel himself choking up, it was getting harder and harder to speak. 

“In the end… I never knew what happened. They were there one day, all of them, and in the morning, I was alone.” He felt like he was being strangled, unable to properly breathe. The world was fading in and out of focus, so he tried his best to simply find a point and stare at it, focusing fully on that one spot. “I never talked to Sirius again, he was sent of to Azkaban so very quickly and I’m too afraid of what I’d meet with if I was to try and meet him.” 

He took a deep breath, fighting to not allow himself to cry in front of a child he most certainly didn’t know. “I… Might have gotten a little distracted… Did I manage to answer what you wanted to know?” He tried his best to smile, but it might not have been the most effective of smiles. 

“So he left his family when they were trying to force him into becoming a Death Eater?” The blonde wizard summarised. The boy seemed very unfaced by his shaken state. 

“Yes.” Remus nodded. Whatever it was the boy was currently struggling with, Remus hoped sharing the information could help the child. His struggles were evident, but it was impossible to tell with what exactly. 

It seemed like Malfoy might be considering asking something more, perhaps about Sirius Black’s crime which led to the death of Harry’s birth parents, but he seemed to decide against it. 

“Alright, I had a peek inside!” Harry called out as he came running back with a big smile on his face. “I didn’t see anything b- what happened?” He stopped in front of his dad, as if he could smell that the man was experiencing an inner turmoil. “Dad, are you alright?” He grabbed his dad’s hand and led him away from the fence of the Shrieking Shack and over to a nearby rock where he could sit down. Remus objected but Harry still insisted that he had a rest. 

“I’m fine, Harry.” Remus tried to explain to his son, but the boy would have none of it. 

“If you are fine then you can still take a short rest. I’m… Sorry.” The boy suddenly apologised, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t think that returning here would be so hard for you… I shouldn’t have been so forceful about wanting to go today.” He mumbled. 

“It’s not your fault.” The man assured the boy. 

“I was the one who asked him about something taxing.” Malfoy suddenly admitted, speaking up with a clear, honest voice. “I’m… I did not mean to exhaust you like this with my question Mr. Lupin.” 

“I really am fine. There is no need to argue over why I’m feeling a bit bad.” The man was becoming just a little uncomfortable with the two boys fussing over him. He didn’t want to be this weak in front of them, yet he was relieved to realise that Malfoy seemed just as understanding of him hurting from the experience as his own son. “Yet I think I might like moving on from this place, where in Hogsmeade would you like to go next?” 

The change of topic seemed to work very well for them all. After some discussion, they decided that they would check to see if the museum was open today, and if not, they planned on visiting Zonko’s before having lunch at the Inn. 

To their surprise and shared excitement, the museum was indeed open. They were greeted in the door by a very eccentric man who held a passionate speech about how knowledge should never be locked away simply because there was a holiday happening. The museum in itself was interesting to Remus as it was, but he doubted that the young boys with him would have found it half as exciting if not for the eccentric man had not offered to guide them and tell them the story in detail. 

He was very honest about what had transpired back during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612, and spared few details about why the Goblins had rebelled. Remus highly appreciated the lack of glorification of the events, even if he had to remind the man that he was speaking to children and not adults whenever the man got lost in what was very close to turning his story into a detailed description of decapitation or maiming. Or both. 

When they exited the museum, both boys seemed more than satisfied. Remus was a little worried about their appetite after almost hearing about the brutal rebellion, but they both seemed to be fine. Perhaps those events were so far away that they weren’t quite able to feel sympathy or pain for it. In this case, it might be for the better. At least for today. 

Thanks to the generosity of Narcissa Malfoy, Remus was able to get all three of them a good, filling lunch at the Hogsmeade Inn. The lunch was pleasant. Malfoy had seemed mostly tense around Remus, especially after what had happened by the Shrieking Shack, but during lunch, Remus felt like the boy finally stopped feeling nervous or guilty. 

After lunch, they visited Honeydukes and Zonko’s joke shop. Harry picked a chocolate cookie at the sweets shop, while Malfoy chose some hard candy which tasted like lemon. He shared one with both Harry and Remus each, to both Lupins’ surprise and happiness. Neither boy wanted anything at Zonko’s, but they both enjoyed looking at all the things in the shop. 

It felt ever so unreal to be standing in the joke shop again after so many years. Remus recalled the store as a magnificent place, like some sort of pillar of joke shops in all of Britain. He recalled the place as grand and having more items for jokes and mischief than he had ever seen the first time he came into the store as a child. Zonko’s had always felt like something every person knew about, like it was very special.

The truth of the matter was that it was a small little shop in such a remote location as Hogsmeade of all places. The store was by no means grand, but it was clear it was catering most of its items towards Hogwarts students. The store even had a gimmick of little signs in sections to show just how many House points would be at risk from different contraptions and items. The matter of the fact was that the place which had seemed so grand when he was a child, was by no means special. It was simply a place which was close enough to a school that more or less every student would know of it and visit it at some point. Perhaps it was the fact that Hogwarts had felt so impossible big, influential and special back as a student, but as an adult Remus knew well it was just another school in the lot, in a world much larger than that of Britain.

Malfoy made a face once the boy found the side of the store advertising for losing House points, it seemed the idea wasn’t very pleasing to the boy. Remus couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate his son and his friends behaving better than he and his own friends had in the past. 

It was beginning to get late, and the day was turning dark as evening approached. Remus asked his two wards if they wanted to return to the castle to change and maybe shower before the dinner, or if they would rather spend some more time in Hogsmeade. He was rather certain that the young Malfoy would want to clean himself up before appearing at the dinner, and his suspicion turned out to be correct. 

He walked the boys back to Hogwarts, he planned on returning to his room at the inn for a little bit before attending the dinner. After hugging his son and waving them off, Remus turned to leave but his eyes caught the big hourglasses which were standing in the entrance hall. The werewolf hesitated but then slowly walked up to them, looking at the rubies, diamonds, sapphires and emeralds which rested inside of them. He briefly wondered just how much the gems were worth in total. A single one could likely be sold for a lot, meaning that a whole hourglass was more than enough to set a person for life, probably for generations. Surely, there had to be something less expensive to fill the hourglasses with? It almost felt like a mockery to his lacking wealth to see those gems sparkle at him, as if they knew well how much worth they had. Remus sighed, deciding to think of it as an enchantment rather than precious gems filling those entire hourglasses which were far larger than him. 

Yet, even as an enchantment the blatant display of overwhelming and outright unnecessary wealth seemed far misplaced in a place so openly vouching for everyone’s equal chance of having a good education. It spoke of the exact opposite to what the school was promoting, and it still made Remus uncomfortable. 

The werewolf stared into the emerald filled hourglass, then took a quick look around himself. He confirmed that he was alone, then leaned in and whispered. 

“One point to Slytherin.” He believed that both Harry and Malfoy had behaved very well throughout the day, and that it was enough to justify his attempt to give them a single House point for that. 

To his great surprise and excitement, he watched as a single emerald fell from the upper glass to the lower glass. It seemed that the school had accepted him as a teacher, despite him not even officially working as one yet. Gripped with excitement, he hurried over to the next hourglass and whispered once more. 

“One point to Gryffindor. One point to Hufflepuff. One point to Ravenclaw.” For every point he gave, a red, yellow and blue gem respectively fell down into the lower part of the hour glass. It was so very satisfying to watch that he forgot his earlier thoughts about display of wealth, albeit temporarily. 

When Remus returned to the castle after returning to his room at the Inn, he felt both nervous and happy. He had brought his son's present, showered, and changed clothes. At the very least, he was presentable, which was good enough to him. He had arrived a little earlier in the hopes of coming before a crowd had formed, and he did. 

The Great Hall looked even grander than yesterday. Remus wasn’t entirely sure what had changed, but it seemed as if everything was just slightly fancier, and that there was more of everything. The decorations seemed a little clustered, but not enough to be a bother. A few people had already gathered by the table, but they seemed to be mostly older students and no teachers. Thus, the werewolf took a seat on one of the tables which had been pushed to the side, leaning against it as he looked at the enchanted ceiling. It was a cloudless night, allowing for the celestial marvel of the sky to be displayed in its glory. Remus and Harry lived in what was essentially the countryside outside of London, and they had quite the magnificent view of the stars. Yet that couldn’t even compare to what the ceiling above him was displaying now. 

“Good evening, Mr. Lupin.” 

Remus straightened himself, a little too fast as it caused his head to spin. He spotted Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Professor McGonagall, who had just arrived at the Great Hall together. The werewolf assumed that they didn’t allow the younger students to move about on their own when so many young students had been assaulted by the Heir of Slytherin. It was very relieving to know, considering how much it had worried Remus to know of the incidents in the first place. 

“Good evening, Ms. Granger, Mr. Longbottom, Professor.” He gave them all a smile which appeared rather calm and not as nervous as he feared that it might. “The sky is marvelous tonight.” He wasn’t sure if he was excusing himself or simply expressing an opinion, but he was happy to see them all glance up at the sky and then agree with him by nodding. 

More and more people began arriving at that point. The Professor excused herself to walk to the table while the two young Gryffindors stayed with the werewolf, waiting for the Slytherin students to arrive from the dungeons. Soon enough, Harry and Malfoy arrived, accompanied by the Head of their House. 

“Hi again dad, and Merry Christmas!” Harry beamed at his father and his two friends, declaring his Muggle greeting out loud. It caused Granger’s cheeks to heat, but she didn’t seem to dislike having the boy think of her background upon wishing her happy holidays. Not to mention that Harry had addressed all of them, not only her. “Did you both get my presents?” The Slytherin student looked over at his friends as he hurried over. 

“Yes, thank you for the cookies.” Longbottom smiled, leaning his head to the side. 

“I do like the hairpins very much, they are exactly what I needed to keep my hair out of my eyes when I study.” Granger smiled as well, twirling some of said hair nervously between her fingers. It was as if the very thought of her being given something was so unimaginable that she needed to justify wanting it by needing it.

“It physically hurt me to buy raisin chocolate cookies.” Harry made a face but then laughed. “No, it wasn’t that bad, I’m just joking. Even if I’d never eat them, it’s nice that you like them.” He grinned. “I hope the moth hairpins were to your liking?” The son of a werewolf asked. “Malfoy said that the colors would compliment your complexion.” 

“I think they are very unique. Not that it matters but I don’t really want to wear the same hair things as, well… everyone else?” Granger seemed unsure of what she was saying, almost like she was excusing herself for not wanting to wear something which other people also wore. 

Malfoy nodded, seemingly understanding and agreeing with what she was saying. “Never in my life would I support Lupin buying those cheap mass produced butterfly clips. Their colors are offensive and go with nothing least of a joke. Besides, it was not that complicated to find some quality hand made ones.” He huffed. His mass produced yet old snake cufflinks shone vaguely in the light of the candles above them. 

“Malfoy paid half of them.” Harry quickly weighed in, causing his friend to turn a bright red. 

“I was to remain anonymous in this!” The blonde objected, looking like he very much wanted to disappear from where he was standing. 

“You just admitted to being involved in buying them.” Longbottom pointed out, causing the Slytherin student to huff even louder. 

“I… thank you.” Granger smiled at the boy, looking shy but happy. “I… I didn’t get you anything, I… I didn’t know.” 

“I don’t need anything.” The boy might have said that too quickly, as it almost appeared demeaning. However, he quickly continued, as to not make her feel rejected. “That is to say, I really have no current need for anything and I would not like to be given things for the sake of duty. I do like presents, I think most people do but… Uh, it really is fine as it is.” Malfoy assured her. 

“Then I’ll cheer for you at your next Quidditch game.” The girl concluded. Malfoy seemed to appreciate that. 

“If you are done with pleasantries, I’d like to enter the Great Hall.” Severus’ monotone voice caused the children to scurry to the side to let him in. He had been standing behind them all this time, possibly guarding against possible threats from outside the Great Hall, as it was still a fact that the school wasn’t safe. The man with the dark eyes glanced towards the werewolf. “Good evening, Lupin.” 

“Good evening, Snape. Happy Holidays.” Remus felt his heart leap with joy that the man had addressed him first, and even politely. So much so that he was relieved to not have slipped up and called the man Severus. 

“Happy Holidays.” A cheery voice joined in on their conversation, happily humming more than it was speaking. The group turned to look at the Headmaster, who was dressed up in his nicest red robes, accompanied with a matching red cap. His white beard was looking even bigger and fuller than it normally did. Remus heard the Muggle-born girl whisper “Santa” under her breath as she laid eyes on the festive red robes with their golden winter themed embroidery. Nobody else heard her, which might be as well as be for the better as she seemed embarrassed by her reaction. 

The assembled group of people responded with Happy Holidays as one, even Severus spoke alongside everyone else. 

“Merry Christmas, Professor.” Said Harry, beaming at the Headmaster who gave the boy a small wink in return. 

“Why are the lot of you gathered here?” The old man spoke cheerily to them. “I believe the table to be far more comfortable than only having Mr. Lupin sit.” The group looked around at one another, with Remus and Severus accidentally locking eyes before glancing away from each other. 

“Uhm… I thought I should give Harry his present before dinner.” Remus held out the package he had been holding to his son, who happily accepted it.

“Thank you! I’ll open it after dinner so as to not let whatever is inside get dirtied by food.” Harry concluded, hugging the book shaped package to his chest. 

Professor Dumbledore moved towards the dining table, causing the rest of them to follow. The children walked first, with the two professors following behind. Remus was once again overjoyed to think that the other man seemed to be making a conscious effort to stay by his side. Perhaps something had changed after all. It made him ever so excited to think that maybe, just maybe, he and Severus could rebuild their friendship all these years later. He was a little afraid to hope, but he couldn’t quench the flame now that it had been lit. 

The dinner was beyond all pleasant. To his great surprise and excitement, Severus did not only elect to sit closer to him and the children that evening, he sat right next to the werewolf. If he had possessed a tail at that moment, Remus was certain that it would have been wagging quite so behind him. 

He spent most of that evening speaking with the man. At first, it was a little stiff but the two of them soon fell back into actually being able to address one another like they had back then, ending up speaking in far too great detail about various subjects within the subject of Defense against the Dark Arts. There was still an obvious distance between the two, a certain politeness, but Remus found himself able to speak the way they used to when it regarded a topic they both found interesting. It was obvious to anyone listening to them that they clearly shared a passion for the topics which they brought up and discussed. However, it also made it very hard for anyone to weigh in or enter their conversation. It was probably for the better that he had spent all day and the previous evening with his child and his friends, lest the boy feel like he missed out on spending time with his dad. 

During their conversations, Remus caught the glimpse of a few students of different ages staring at them. More precisely, they seemed to be staring at Severus with some sort of look which mostly read disbelief. He noticed Longbottom especially staring at them quite some bit during dinner. It reminded him of the fact that the students found the Potions Professor intimidating. Even after all of Harry’s descriptions of the man, even after witnessing how intimidating he could appear in person, Remus found it almost impossible to consider the man any such thing. Perhaps he was being silly, or perhaps it was the privilege of once having been the man’s friend and thus knowing him better than that. 

When dinner was finished, and the children had eaten their fill of dessert, Harry excitedly pulled out the package from his dad, and began opening it. He found a book within, one titled _Pale Hecate's Team, an Examination of the Beliefs on Witchcraft and Magic among Shakespeare's Contemporaries and His Immediate Successors_. It was Muggle literature, and a second hand copy at that but the boy had wished to read something related to Muggle belief of witchcraft since the Headmaster’s informative speech about the Muggle witch hunts. It was the only book which Remus had managed to find in a second hand store. 

Across the table, Professor Dumbledore was smiling happily, having seen what gift Harry had unwrapped. He was likely very satisfied to know that his speech had encouraged at least someone to research a subject they might not have thought of to become invested in otherwise. 

“Thank you! It’s perfect!” Harry cheered as he quickly wrapped his arms around his dad, hugging him tight. “It even says Shakespeare on the title, and I do know about his work, this will be a great read.” 

Next to him, Malfoy glanced at the book. “May I… borrow that when you are done?” He carefully asked. It almost seemed as if Malfoy thought it was something shameful to ask, which seemed to make his son even more eager to respond in a positive manner. 

“Of course.” Harry beamed. 

“You haven’t mentioned liking Shakespeare before.” Granger looked at them both with a look of surprise and excitement. “I didn’t think the Wizarding World knew of, or enjoyed, Shakespeare.” 

“Oh, almost everyone reads his work for fun.” Remus explained. “I suppose he is somewhat of a light read to most in the Wizarding World, almost everyone has read some of what he has written.” 

“Really?” The girl looked surprised. 

“My grandmother reads Shakespeare.” Longbottom added to the conversation. “I don’t really understand the language very well, but she did try to make me read some of them.” 

“I… wow…” The Muggle-born girl looked around at the people around her, her face twisted into a somewhat sad look as she was likely overcome with a feeling of not knowing as much about the new world she found herself in as she was trying to present herself to be. 

“Would you like to borrow the book as well when Malfoy has finished with it?” To switch the subject and make the girl feel less out of her place, Harry held out the book to her so that she may read the title and the back of it. 

She shyly accepted it. “May I?” 

“Of course.” The son of a werewolf beamed at her. 

“It is getting late.” Severus commented dryly after silence had lowered itself over their side of the table. “It would be wise to not dwell too long.” Remus wasn’t entirely certain if he was speaking to him or to the children. 

“I believe that Professor Snape is right.” The werewolf agreed, reaching out to gently pat his son’s back. “It would make me feel good knowing that everyone returned to their sleeping quarters safely.” 

“I would also wish to retire for the evening.” Professor McGonagall arrived behind her Gryffindor students, looking rather tired. “If it is the same with you students, I’d like to walk you back to your common room and then return to my own office.”

Longbottom yawned, nodding in agreement. “I’d like that…” He agreed. 

The Gryffindors retired after wishing Remus a good night and a happy new year, before following the Head of their House out. Remus made certain to thank the Headmaster for allowing him to attend the feast before leaving, to which the old man responded that it was a pleasure. 

The werewolf, the Potions Master and the two Slytherin students rose from the table and exited the Great Hall, leaving the few people who were still left to finish their nights how they saw fit. The group walked with Severus first and Remus last, the two men keeping the boys safe between them. They reached the common room without any trouble, where Harry and Remus proceeded to embrace each other before saying their goodbyes. It was bittersweet to do, but they had gotten to spend a lot of time together with one another and both were getting tired. 

“Can’t you come back for new years?” Harry asked, looking both sad and hopeful. 

“I’m afraid that might be a little much to ask, but I can always try to ask Professor Dumbledore.” Remus promised his son. 

“Yeah… You should ask.” Harry hugged him tighter before letting go. “Thank you again for the present and Hogsmeade, it was really fun.” 

“Thank you for bringing me along.” Malfoy carefully weighed in. 

“It was my pleasure.” The werewolf assured them both. He had to use every ounce of self control to not pat the blonde on the head as he did with his son before leaving. “Stay safe the both of you, and write often. I love you, Harry.” 

“I love you too.” The boy beamed at him, trying to not look too sad over his dad leaving. “Good night, dad.” 

“Good night, Mr. Lupin.” 

“Good night.” The three smiled at one another as Remus moved to the door, waving back at them. 

Severus was waiting for him when he exited the common room, the man having chosen to remain outside the room altogether. Remus took a deep breath, wiping his wet eyes before looking over at the man. It was not that he was horribly sad to leave his son, but it always made him just a little too emotional to part with someone he liked. Especially when that someone was his son. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He excused himself as soon as the other man turned his way. 

“You think me cold hearted enough to find myself impatient as a father bids his son farewell for half a year?” Severus raised an eyebrow, looking at the werewolf with a surprisingly honest, doubting look in his eyes.

“No, of course not.” The werewolf once more excused himself. “I’m simply a little hesitant as to expect myself to not be wasting someone’s time I suppose.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to make you sound cruel.” 

Severus stared at him for a few moments, then gave an ever so small shrug. “No. You are not likely to try and make me appear villainous. I wish to retire as well, if you do not mind.” The last words were not a question, whatever disguise of questioning they might be wearing. 

“Yes… yes.” Remus began moving, trailing after the other man for a few steps before he decided to walk alongside him rather than behind him. “I am very thankful for the chance to bid my son goodbye, thank you.” 

“You need not mention it.” Severus responded, keeping from turning his head as they spoke. 

They walked in silence until they reached the spot where they separated the day before. Remus turned towards the other man, whose scent made it seem like he had something he wished to say. Now that Severus wasn’t staying away from him, it was a little easier to recognise such things. He waited patiently, until the man finally sighed and began searching through his robes. 

“Hold out your hand.” The Potions Master did not so much ask as he demanded. 

Remus obeyed, much akin to a dog responding to a command. He felt a little embarrassed by just how easy it was to adhere to the man’s commands and not think too hard about it. The shorter man placed a small potions bottle into the werewolf’s hand, inside it was a thick, metallic colored liquid which Remus didn’t recognise whatsoever. 

“For me? Thank you...uh, what is it?” He glanced at the other man’s face before avoiding his eyes. It seemed that Severus' way of handling discomfort in this moment had turned into him staring at the werewolf’s face with a rather frightening intensity in his eyes. 

“It is the equivalent of a healing extract.” The Head of the Slytherin House responded. “You apply the salve to a wound, and it will both ease the pain and well as expedite the healing process.” He summarised. “When you find yourself waking up with another wound to the ones you have, apply the salve as soon as you can and it should keep from creating more scars. You only need enough to cover the wound. If it does not ease your pain, you can apply more.” 

Remus looked down at the bottle, then smiled up at the man with eyes wet with emotion. He didn’t want to cry, but he was so very thankful for the other man’s gift that he found it hard not to. “Thank you so very much. I hardly have any such incidents these days, but this is very welcomed for the days where I do. Thank you!” He truly hadn’t expected a present for the man, and felt surprisingly alright with not having thought to give the other one in return. If Severus was anything like the boy he used to know, he would not give a gift for the sake of expecting something in return, but rather for the significance of the gift and gesture itself. Besides, he could get the man something next year, once he had figured out more what sort of things Severus would like nowadays. 

He wanted to hug the man. More than anything, he wanted to embrace him. Severus could probably tell, for he took a step back to create distance and show that he was not comfortable with the idea. Remus respected that, but it was a little hard on him. 

“You are likely to need it in the future. Accidents do happen.” Severus’ words were not meant to be threatening in the least, but they somehow came of as rather ominous. 

The werewolf chuckled. “Yes, I suppose. Will this work on a stubbed toe?”

The Potions Master looked offended. “Yes. However, it would be quite the waste.” He concluded while crossing his arms over his chest. “Now do leave before the roads become hard to travel in the dark.” 

“I will. Thank you again.” He carefully slipped the bottle into his pocket, holding around it to make certain that he wouldn’t break it. “I suppose we will see each other next term when I start working?” Remus tried to sound cheerful, but he was more likely than not only sounding nervous. 

“Yes. We will. I expect a professional work relationship between the two of us.” The Potions Professor’s gaze turned sharp as he spoke. “As we will be working more closely than I do with most fellow professors here. Until then… Be careful. Drink your potions like you should.” 

“Thank you.” The werewolf smiled at the man. “For everything.” 

Severus waved his words away, looking displeased over the positive attention Remus was giving him in the shape of words. “Do be off with you.” 

The taller man chuckled at his once upon a time friend. “Good night.” He turned to leave, holding the bottle gently in his hand as he exited the dungeons and headed towards the exit to the castle. He glanced once more at the hourglasses, and couldn’t resist one last Marauder prank. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor. Ten points to Slytherin. Ten points to Hufflepuff. Ten points to Ravenclaw.” 

The hourglasses responded to his words and the gems rained down, adding to the ones in the bottom of the hour glass. Remus chuckled to himself. He never expected to be a teacher at Hogwarts, and he most certainly never imagined that he would be able to affect something which had been such a natural, immovable part of his life for so many years. For whatever it was worth, he was looking forward to being able to prove the flaws of the point system when he returned by the start of the fall term.


	14. Chapter 13 - In which Dobby wants to scream some more, but isn’t allowed to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think… That I have made up my mind about something.” The blonde boy looked up at his friend, his expression a mix of pain and determination. “There is something… there is something I must know.” 
> 
> “Uh, um… Sure.” Harry carefully agreed to the other’s words, assuming that Malfoy was about to ask him something. 
> 
> To his surprise, the boy didn’t ask anything, but carefully stood up from his bed, took a few steps away from it and then turned towards his friend once more. “I’m going to call for someone, and I want you to be honest with me when you answer my actual questions.”

“Lupin, why is your father looking at Professor Snape that way?” Malfoy turned to Harry, who blinked at his words. 

Remus had just left them, and the two boys were preparing for going to bed. Harry was halfway into his pajamas when the other had asked him. He pulled his head through the hole and shrugged, preferring to play innocent rather than admitting to how obvious it was that his dad liked their Potions Professor. 

“I don’t know what that way is.” Harry grinned at his friend. 

“Well… You know.” Malfoy buttoned his fine silk pajamas, displeased and embarrassed to be trying to explain his reasoning. “ _That_ way.” 

“I’m twelve. I have no idea what you are talking about.” Harry lied and jumped into his bed and stretched out, causing Malfoy to sigh and slowly crawl into his. 

“I suppose, if you are going to be that way.” The blonde stopped what he was doing halfway and started moving off the bed again, turning to search for something in his wardrobe. 

“Did you forget something?” Harry sat up again, looking over at his friend who was rummaging through his things. “Should I help you look?” 

Just as he asked, Malfoy straightened up and returned to the bed, holding a package. He hesitated, sitting down and glanced at Harry with an uncertain expression on his face. “I… I kept on forgetting to give this to you, and then no time seemed to work out… I was going to give it to you this morning, yet I forgot… Here is your birthday present.” He showed the package but didn’t yet give it to Harry. 

“Do you… not want me to have it?” The son of a werewolf leaned his head to the side, a look of confusion spreading over his face. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to but…” Malfoy hesitated still. “I don’t want you to think that I mean anything by it. I just thought that it might be fun for you to learn more about it, since you love researching so much, and I… after so many things happening, I just feel like maybe I should not give this to you as it is now…”

“You are… doing quite the ramble there.” Harry carefully jumped over to the other’s bed, looking at him with patient, gentle eyes. “I don’t even know what ‘that’ or ‘it’ is, and I won’t be offended.” 

Malfoy looked him in the eyes, looking quite pathetic where he was curling together, hugging the package with a nervous look on his face. When he had stared into Harry’s eyes for a while, he slowly yielded and rejected his fears, handing the present over. “Happy birthday, Lupin. Although it’s late. Very late.” 

“Thank you!” The green eyed boy beamed back as he opened the carefully wrapped package. Inside, he found a book. Upon closer inspection, that book proved to be _Quidditch through the Ages - Deluxe Edition_. “Oh… Thank you. I guess that really is something I don’t know a lot about.” 

Malfoy immediately started to explain himself once more. “You really shouldn’t come to the games anymore, you only seem to be getting hurt and I don’t want that. However, since you are continually forgetting about the game, I thought I should give you one of those academic sources you value so much and-” 

“Thank you, I like it.” Harry smiled at his friend. He really wasn’t interested in Quidditch in the least, but he really liked to hear Malfoy talk about it. Not because of the game, but because hearing about his friend’s passion was always nice. He was running out of things to read for pleasure in his immediate interests, thus, reading this book in the meantime wasn’t that bad. He could let Malfoy or Granger read the book he got from his dad as he read _Quidditch through the ages._ “This is sure to have some interesting facts and historical context, I look forward to reading it.” 

Malfoy carefully smiled back. “But really, do read that instead of coming to the game. I can tell you all about it later, but just… don’t come.” 

“Promise.” Harry grinned. “Thanks again, I really do mean it.” 

For a while the two of them smiled at one another. Harry almost felt like things were back to normal, like Hogwarts was safe again and that Malfoy was no longer stressed and insecure, or burdened by something which he couldn’t express to Harry. Yet then, the smile seemed to freeze and shatter on the blonde boy’s face as he looked down onto the bed. 

“I think… That I have made up my mind about something.” The blonde boy looked up at his friend, his expression a mix of pain and determination. “There is something… there is something I must know.” 

“Uh, um… Sure.” Harry carefully agreed to the other’s words, assuming that Malfoy was about to ask him something. 

To his surprise, the boy didn’t ask anything, but carefully stood up from his bed, took a few steps away from it and then turned towards his friend once more. “I’m going to call for someone, and I want you to be honest with me when you answer my actual questions.” He hesitated for a little longer after Harry nodded, then took a deep breath and spoke. “Dobby, come to me.” 

Harry hardly had time to register exactly what name his friend had just spoken, as the air next to Malfoy seemed to loudly pop, and a creature appeared by his side. As Harry looked to the creature, he found that he recognised him as Dobby the House Elf. The House Elf was curled together, seeming close to dropping to his knees and greeting Malfoy with all his might, or close to one of his crying fits. Yet Harry and Dobby locked eyes, a gasp leaving them both at the same time. 

“Harry Potter Lupin!” Dobby looked at him with wide eyes, staring with such intensity that it seemed that his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Needless to say, it was not an expression anyone really wished to see. 

“Dobby!” Harry got to his feet, gripping his book as if it was a shield. “Wh...what… you… You… How?” 

The creature hiccupped, looking about to cry as he glanced up at Malfoy before hiding his head with his hands. “Oh… Oh… Harry Potter Lupin. Lupin! Harry Lupin! Oh, Dobby didn’t know… Dobby should have known, foolish, foolish Dobby!” 

“Do not shout.” Malfoy ordered him, causing the creature to shut his mouth, although he remained whimpering. 

Harry looked at the blonde wizard. Draco looked like he was about to fall apart, like everything he was and thought he had been had broken, and all which held him together was a thin sheet of paper. One which was threatening to be ripped apart by the sharp cracks from within him. He seemed to be swaying slightly where he was standing, which made Harry quite certain that the boy needed to sit down right away. He slowly walked over to his friend, and carefully grabbed the other’s shoulders to guide him towards his bed. Malfoy came along, numb to the world yet fragile to the touch. He sat down heavily, to quickly disappear into the darkness of his own palms, his breathing shallow and shaking. 

Dobby carefully approached as well, looking like a frightened, deformed puppy. “Master is not well… Oh, it’s Dobby’s fault, Dobby must punish himself for hurting Master…!” He looked around for something with which to inflict pain upon himself, but Malfoy shook his own head. 

“I’ve told you over and over, I don’t need you to punish yourself, I need you to do the job right.” Malfoy mumbled through his hands. 

The answer sounded so very rehearsed that Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Malfoy was mimicking something which his mother or father had said. Dobby came to a halt, holding on to his pillow sheet piece of clothing and sobbed softly, swaying back and forth. 

“Malfoy?” Harry carefully spoke up after some time had passed in silence. That is to say, silence except for the House Elf’s hiccups and sobbing. “Are you alright?” The lack of words, the lack of explanation from Malfoy filled his head with all manners of terrible, hurtful assumptions and accusations. He couldn’t stand to think these things about his friend, thus he desperately needed to replace his thoughts with the other’s words. 

“I… I will be.” He mumbled, managing to gather himself enough to lift his head. “Dobby.” As he turned towards the House Elf, he seemed to have adapted to the persona of his father’s copy rather than that of himself. He stared down at the creature with disapproval and authority. “I demand answers.” 

“Dobby has no answers! Dobby doesn’t know anything!” The House Elf cried, turning away like a child who refused to admit to his mistakes.

“I am your Master, as much as my father and as much as my mother. You will answer my questions.” Malfoy’s tone of voice almost made Harry feel like obeying him, but he realised that nothing was actually asked of him, so he really had nothing to obey. 

The creature’s head fell. “Yes, Master.” He replied in a sulking voice. 

“First of all… You have been harassing Lupin for the past half a year. Was it you who caused that bludger to attack him during that Quidditch game?” He stared down at the creature, barely able to hold back how angry he was about the whole incident. 

“Y-yes… But Dobby did that to-”

“You only answer my questions! No excuses! Or I will order you to slam your ears in the oven.” Malfoy more or less yelled at the creature, who whimpered. 

“No you will not.” Harry grabbed Malfoy’s arm, pulling at him to try and make his rage still itself. The blonde turned towards him, his otherwise pleasant features twisted with anger and righteous thirst for vengeance. Not that there was such a thing in real life, and Harry knew it. “Violence solves nothing, you are better than this.”

Malfoy stared at him, until his features softened again with the realisation that Harry was right. He slowly relaxed his tense muscles, and looked back to the covering creature. 

“I won’t ask that you punish yourself. Disregard that command and… work with me here.” He returned to addressing his House Elf. “You told Lupin that there was a murder plot happening at Hogwarts this year, by that, did you mean the opening of the Chamber of Secrets? The… return of the Heir of Slytherin?” 

Dobby whimpered. “Master has forbidden Dobby to talk.”

Harry was worried that his friend would be mad once more, yet Malfoy did not raise his voice but sternly reprimanded the House Elf once again. “I am your Master, and I order you to answer me.”

There was silence for a while, until the House Elf continued to speak. “Yes. Dobby was speaking of the Chamber of Secrets, as they release the monster within, under control of the Heir.” 

Harry felt his heart sink deep into his chest, breathing became painful and the world once more swayed in front of his eyes. Malfoy looked at him, white as a sheet with an expression which probably mimicked Harry’s own. 

“What is the monster? Who is the Heir?” Malfoy gathered himself first, starting to demand answers from Dobby, who shook his head and covered his ears. 

“Dobby doesn’t know, Dobby doesn’t know! He only heard the Master speak of the plot to shut Hogwarts down, reduce trust in Albus Dumbledore, and restore the values of Salazar Slytherin! Dobby doesn’t know who the Heir is, and he doesn’t know who is killing the Muggle-borns, but he does know that Harry Potter Lupin is in danger, and Dobby had to try and save him.” 

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who spoke up with a weak, shaking voice. It was merely a whisper, hardly loud enough to be heard over the sound of Harry’s heartbeats. “And… Did my… father orchestrate this whole… affair? Is my f-father responsible for the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets?” 

The son of a werewolf held his breath. Dobby peeked at his young Master through his fingers. Malfoy stared at the House Elf with a desperate look on his face, one which seemed so honest in its expression of despair that it caused the creature to hold back his answer out of concern for the boy. Yet Malfoy had demanded answers, his earlier order did not allow for compassion. 

“Yes. This is all because of the Master.” 

Malfoy looked like he was about to faint, causing Harry to quickly move closer to grab him and make sure he sat back properly on the bed. Draco fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of such utter confusion and hurt that it was hard for Harry to even look at him. 

“I think you can leave now, Dobby.” Harry addressed the House Elf, who seemed close to trying to bite his own fingers off for either having hurt the younger Malfoy or betrayed the older Malfoy. Harry was very thankful that he wasn’t, but he certainly looked like he was about to. “Thank you for telling us.” 

Dobby seemed to shine up. “Being thanked by Harry Potter Lupin is the greatest honor! Dobby likes to be thanked, even though he isn’t worthy of it.” The last words were spoken in a soft, shy voice as the creature poked with its toes at the stone floor below him. 

“Please return to your home, and don’t speak of this to Mr. Malfoy or Mrs. Malfoy, please?” Harry understood that he had no authority over Dobby, but hoped that the creature’s worship of him might help in keeping what had just transpired hidden from Malfoy’s parents.

“Dobby shall be quiet as a mouse!” The creature saluted Harry and disappeared with a strange noise which made Harry’s ears ring. He assumed that it was a form of apparition, but he didn’t know enough about it to fully understand what had just transpired with Dobby’s disappearance. 

Harry turned to his friend, who still stared up at the ceiling above him as if he had turned into a husk of the boy he was a few hours prior. It was so jarring that the son of a werewolf feared that his friend had been obliviated, thus leaving him a blank slate. Harry climbed up onto the boy’s bed, carefully adjusting himself so as to not hurt the other when he sat down close to his head, inserting himself into the blonde wizard’s vision. 

“...Malfoy? Do you… I mean, I really think you might need to talk about this. Would you… please talk to me?” Not his most flawless construction of a sentence, but at least the other reacted to his words. 

Malfoy blinked, seemingly seeing Harry once more. He opened his mouth, the words left his throat in strange little huffs of air, as his tongue and lips struggled to shape those huffs into words. “I have never heard people speak of Sirius Black in the way I heard people speak of him yesterday. I asked your father about it today, it is what caused him to… reach that state of stress.” Malfoy explained. Although Harry didn’t quite understand why the other was telling him this, he was happy to have learnt the reason for his dad’s distress earlier that day. 

“My family never speaks of him, and if they do, they speak of him as a blood traitor. Mother is disgusted with him and does not want the discussion to proceed any longer than to dismiss it. Every time he is mentioned, they speak of how his values were twisted, how he rejected his noble bloodline, and acted every bit a selfish, violent child towards his concerned, loyal mother.” Malfoy swallowed. “Your father told me a different story. He explained how Black was essentially hounded by his family, pressured into anger and violence by a cruel mother who refused to accept his path in life. I always found him a monster for rejecting family, for turning against his blood but… but…” He stopped, unable to find words. 

Malfoy’s eyes seemed to beg Harry for a solution, for a version which didn’t have his father unleash a murder plot onto Hogwarts. Where his father had not set a monster free upon children and adolescent teens for the sake of purity of blood. 

“How can I… How can I possibly agree with this? How can I possibly sit by and find delight in that my own father is trying to murder children? People who are possibly my friends, like Granger!” He looked all the more desperate. “I don’t want to become like Sirius Black! I don’t want to reject my family or my blood or my legacy but… Lupin, what am I supposed to do?” 

Harry didn’t know. 

He opened his mouth, trying to formulate his entangled thoughts into something coherent, yet he didn’t know what to say. 

“It’s… not your fault.” He couldn’t think of anything else. “This… This is so very complicated, I don’t know… Maybe we should talk to dad… or Professor Snape… Or the Headmaster.” 

Malfoy looked scared. “No! No, we can’t… we can’t tell anyone! My father could be sent to Azkaban, or he could be accused of being a Death Eater again… We… we can’t tell anyone, my family could be ruined forever!” He sat up and grabbed Harry’s arms with such force that it hurt him. “Please! I… I don’t want to be accused of being a monster again… I… I don’t think I can handle any more…” What little was left of his self control broke and he began crying, quickly reducing himself to a sobbing mess in Harry’s arms. 

What else could he possibly do but hug the other boy, carefully allowing the other to cry out against his shoulder as the blonde wizard clung to him. He had never seen the other cry like this before, but Harry knew that he never wanted to see him cry like this again. It was as if Malfoy had suppressed his own emotions for so long that when he allowed himself to feel hurt, he couldn’t stop the rest of what he had kept down. 

“Alright… we will keep it secret.” Harry finally mumbled. 

It went against every fiber of his being to keep something so problematic a secret, but it truly wasn’t his place to decide what to do when it came to Malfoy’s family. He had seen how people had treated the blonde wizard from suspicion and rumors alone. Harry didn’t even want to imagine what the boy would face if anyone found out. Malfoy cried louder as he agreed to stay silent about Lucius Malfoy’s involvement in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. 

“It… might not matter that much who started the whole thing, your father isn’t here now and the attacks are continuing. Whoever the Heir is, whatever the monster in the Chamber is, it is happening regardless of your father’s presence.” Harry tried to reason. He still felt strongly that they should tell someone, he still wanted to tell someone and not make excuses, but it would hurt Malfoy so very badly. He slowly licked his lips, hugging his friend as he tried to think of other options but came up with nothing. He simply could not think of any other solution than to be silent and keep the secret. 

When the blonde wizard finally recovered from his breakdown, he sat up a little straighter and tried to wipe his tears away. His breathing was slightly uneven but at the very least, he had stopped crying. “I… I’m so sorry… I know I’m asking a lot of you.” Malfoy apologised, without hesitation, without making a big deal of it. That if anything was a big deal to Harry, who knew his friend well enough to know that he didn’t really apologise for things willingly. 

Harry slowly nodded. “Yes, you are. Yet… now that we know that it is your dad who started this, maybe we can think of something to at least halt the plans? Do you have any idea how he started this?” The son of a werewolf wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking, but he tried to ask if there was any way for them to try and track down who the Heir might be by using Lucius Malfoy’s possible allies as a guide. 

Malfoy hesitated before shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know how he possibly did this but… We have a lot of strange and mysterious artifacts at home which I’m not allowed to interact with or touch. I’m not sure, but maybe one of those artifacts could be used to open the Chamber?” 

“Then… maybe an artifact from Slytherin’s time? Something with a snake motif?” Harry reasoned out loud. 

“Perhaps…” Malfoy’s face wrinkled as he tried to think of something he had seen which fit that description. “There might have been something like that, but I can’t recall.” 

“Maybe thinking about it isn’t going to help us at all…” Harry sighed, allowing himself to fall back on the bed, staring out into space. 

“Maybe not… I’m rather sure that nobody would be foolish enough to walk around with a dangerous or forbidden artifact on their person for everyone to see.” Malfoy lay down next to him, staring as well. 

“Do you really think that this is all a plot to kill me?” Harry voiced his fears after some time had passed in silence. 

“I don’t… know.” Malfoy responded with a hesitant voice. “From what I know, my father really doesn’t have anything against ‘Harry Potter.’” He stopped after he had said that name and groaned. “Lovely, now Harry Potter sounds unnatural and Harry Lupin sounds far more right… Either way, he doesn’t actively have anything against Potter, thus I find it hard to believe that he would try and create a plot to kill you.” Malfoy finally managed to summarise his thoughts, passively waving his hand in the air as he spoke. “It’s not the first time that Dobby has misunderstood something and created quite the commotion about it.” 

Harry frowned. He hesitated but then slowly asked his friend “so what… is the deal with him? Why is he… you know, like that? Is your family…. hurting him?” 

Malfoy looked uncomfortable but he very quickly shook his head. “Dobby has been our House Elf since before I was born, he is very… Uhm…” He sighed, pulling his hand through his hair with a frustrated expression on his face. “I don’t know when it began, but sometime, my father told him to issue the punishment for his failure himself. Ever since then, he just seems to be ramping it up for every time he makes a mistake. My mother always tells him to do things right rather than punish himself for it, but he still does it. It’s gotten really out of hand, they have been talking about replacing him for years but… They are sort of worried about what he’d do and where he’d go if we were to release him. At this point, we are sort of as stuck with him as he is with us.” 

Harry carefully grabbed his friend’s hand, the two of them staring up at the ceiling together, just two twelve year old boys who knew so very little. They thought that they knew a lot, thought that they had answers, yet with the way things had turned out, both of them had reached the same painful conclusion: that they didn’t actually know as much as they thought. Not how to handle Dobby, not how to handle the murder plot unfolding at Hogwarts, and not what to do about Malfoy’s father being behind it all. Malfoy squeezed Harry’s hand back. 

“Do you mind staying by me tonight? I think that it will be hard to sleep alone.” The blonde wizard mumbled. 

“Yeah… I also don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Let me just get my pillow.” Harry sat up and rearranged some things, before laying back down again. 

Neither of them was able to go to sleep, so after an uncomfortable silence, Harry asked his friend to tell him about Quidditch. Malfoy was hesitant at first but started talking. He quickly cheered him up and by the time they fell asleep, both boys felt at least a little better than they did after speaking to Dobby. 


	15. Chapter 14 - in which Harry Lupin learns about the boy whose name he shares in History class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been thinking to ask you something, what is that old book you have on your nightstand?” 
> 
> Harry, who had found a sock to replace his broken one, stood up straighter. “What… oh, that….” He began pulling the sock on, looking over at the book as well. “Myrtle threw it at me that day when she last flooded the corridor. I threw it there to dry and forgot about it, it must be completely ruined by all that water.” 
> 
> “May I have a look?” Malfoy reached for it as Harry nodded.

“Well done, Mr. Riddle. Five points to Slytherin.” Professor Binns complimented Harry for his answer, nodding happily to himself. Apparently, the ghost hadn't expected the children to be able to answer at all, and happily rewarded a Slytherin points for the answer. “Just as Mr. Riddle said, the Goblin Rebellion took place in 1612, it has often been credited as the start of the following rebellions..” The ghost continued to lecture about the Rebellions but was interrupted by Hermione who had raised her hand. 

“Yes, Ms. McGonagall?” The old ghost was unable to recognise his students as themselves, but addressed them by various names of his previous students. Harry knew that his friend was incredibly happy and humbled to be referred to by the name of a Professor whom she so respected. 

“Yes, I had a few more specific questions about the first Goblin Rebellion if I may?” She began questioning the Professor as she got permission, indeed asking very specific questions which the man was happy to answer. 

School had started a few weeks back, things were almost normal. No more people had been attacked and the mandragora plants were steadily growing. It felt hard to imagine that there had been so much fear and paranoia last term. It felt to Harry that the stronger the sunlight got every day passing, the harder it was to imagine that there was a murder plot and a monster in the school. 

Next to Harry, Malfoy was absently doodling in his notebook, scribbling circles and spirals as he looked all but absent to the world. The two of them hadn’t quite been able to just forget about what they knew, and had trouble acting like everything was simply normal. The Slytherin students had noticed but both assumed it to be the two of them being weighed down by the label of the Heir of Slytherin which still hung over them both respectively. Hermione and Neville seemed to suspect that there was something more which played into their behavior, but they didn’t know what it was. 

After the lesson, Harry, Malfoy, Hermione and Neville walked together towards the library, having decided to study together for the upcoming essay work on the Goblin Rebellions, as the information was still fresh after the lesson. They had been given the Rebellion of 1612, which excited both Harry and Malfoy, since they had quite a lot of information about it from their trip to the museum during the Holidays. 

The group tried to cut through a corridor on the second floor but found themselves standing in a pool of water, Malfoy being the only one who managed to stop before stepping into it. 

“Ew… Not again!” Neville whimpered as he lifted his foot, disgusted by the water having leaked through his shoes and into his socks. 

“I wonder what she is upset with now…” Hermione grunted, lifting her bag a little higher to secure it from dropping all her precious books into the water below them. 

Malfoy was already scooting along the only patch of dry corridor, trying not to get his expensive shoes wet. “Somebody should talk to that ghost, this is unacceptable.” 

“You’re right.” Harry agreed as he began walking through the water with a displeased look on his face. “I think I will. If nothing else, I will have tried.” He began moving towards the door. 

“I don’t want to talk to her when she is upset.” Hermione shook her head as she looked towards the door with a bit of a frightened look. “She says so many horrible things when she is like that, calling me names and… such.” 

Neville patted her shoulder with a sympathetic look on his face. “Don’t let her words get to you, you aren’t what she says you are.” The boy assured his friend. She smiled softly at him in return, looking quite relieved after hearing that. 

“I’ll just go alone, nobody else has to come with me.” Harry opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside, quickly finding himself standing up to his calves in water. His displeasure about the water was accompanied by the moaning of the ghost, who seemed to be crying to herself somewhere in one of the booths. He really hoped that Hermione knew a quick-drying spell or he’d be ported from the library. Wading deeper into the bathroom, he hoisted his clothing up to try and avoid letting the hem get drenched. 

The bathroom was a spacious one, with quite the row of stalls. Yet the first thing one noticed upon stepping inside the bathroom was the washing station, a circular pillar of sinks which rose higher than the stalls. “Hello? Myrtle?” Harry called, looking around for the ghost. “Are you here? I’d like to speak with you.” 

The moaning halted and a door flew open further down the row of booths, as an angry ghost came flying towards him. Harry jerked back but she stopped right in front of him, her see through face right in front of his. 

“A boy! Get out, get out!” She sobbed. “Not only is someone trying to hurt me, but you are invading the girl’s bathroom you horrible, horrible boy!” The way she called him boy made it seem like she was trying to hex him. 

“I’m sorry for invading, but I wanted to speak with you.” Harry raised his hands, hurriedly trying to calm the ghost down by remaining calm and passive. 

She snorted but removed herself from his face, floating up in the air with her arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t want to talk to me. Nobody wants to talk to me, everybody hates me. They even want to hurt me now when I’m dead! Dropping books on me.” 

“Is… someone dropping books on you? That’s quite rude, are you alright? Did it hurt you?” Since she mentioned an assault with a book as a weapon, Harry focused on that rather than asking her to stop with the flooding right away. 

The ghost pouted at him, then lowered herself onto ground level again. “Yes, yes, it hurt terribly! In my heart and soul. Why does everyone have to be so cruel to poor Myrtle?” She moaned, looking to Harry as she expected him to agree with her. 

“I’m sorry that it hurt you, and I don’t think that you deserved it, but my friend just told me that you have been cruel to her too. If you want people to be nice to you, you have to be nice to them. I don’t approve of you hurting her in return for you being hurt by somebody else.” Harry stared at her with a scowl on his face. 

“But that one is-”

“I don’t care.” Harry cut her off before she could potentially say something bad about Hermione. “If you want people to like you, you can’t insult them, and you can’t flood the bathroom when you get upset, it causes problems for a lot of people. You can leave this bathroom, right? You can speak to an adult about your concerns and they can help you solve it.” 

The ghost pouted. “You are just like every other boy! Always telling me what to do and how I should do it. You don’t respect me at all.” 

Harry was beginning to lose his temper and patient with this ghost, after everything which had happened during the holidays, he found that he had a bit harder than normal to be patient with people who simply rejected the truth in favor or their own misery and delusions. 

“I would respect you more if you didn’t continuously make other people uncomfortable with your actions and behavior. Your actions make you unworthy of my respect, so if it is respect you want from me, at this point, you have to make yourself worthy of it.” He looked straight into her eyes as he spoke. 

“Then I don’t respect you!” She screamed at him as she kicked the water, sending it splashing all over Harry. 

“This is what I’m talking about!” Harry raised his voice. “When you behave like this and throw things at me, how am I supposed to respect you?”

“You’re cruel, you come into my place of death and you say that you won’t respect me based on people hurting me! The people fifty years ago were kinder than you were!” She threw more water over him, causing Harry to back away from her. 

“I’m sorry you were hurt but stop acting like you have the right to hurt others because someone hurt you. And stop throwing water at me!” He called back. 

“Get out! Get out you boy!” She screech. 

As she did, a black book came flying towards Harry, hitting him in the chest. He grabbed it automatically, staring at her with angry eyes as she dived into one of the booths and disappeared. Harry stomped towards the door, still holding the book as he exited. His friends were waiting for him with nervous looks on their faces. 

“We… heard screaming…” Neville carefully spoke as Harry stomped over to them. 

“She is impossible!” He grunted as he moved past them. “I’ll go change, excuse me while I go change, I’ll see you later.” Harry stomped down the stairs, muttering to himself as he headed to his common room to get changed.

When he got to his room, he threw the wet book onto his empty bedside table, got his wet clothes off and hung them up to dry before drying his hair off with a towel. It didn’t take him very long to dress himself but by the time he had managed to get his clothing back on, he had calmed down. It had been immature of him to get so angry with the miserable ghost and he should have known better. He knew he was right, but he also understood that there were better ways to handle the situation than yelling at her. Harry felt like he should apologise to her for losing his temper, but doing that right at the moment seemed like a bad idea. He would do it later, when they both had time to properly calm down. 

Harry found that his bag had managed to remain out of harm during the splashing of the water, thus he brought it with him to the library, glad that the items inside weren’t ruined. He located his friends by their usual library study table and took a seat next to Malfoy, who welcomed him back with a weak smile. 

“What did I miss?” The son of a werewolf began pulling his school supplies out of his bag, placing them in front of himself on the table. 

“I actually had something I want to discuss with all of you.” Hermione looked serious as she looked over her friends’ faces. The boys glanced at one another but then gave her their full attention. She lowered her voice in response, whispering as to not let anyone else hear what they were speaking about. “I’ve been thinking about the monster in the Chamber of Secrets.” 

Harry noticed how Malfoy turned a shade paler, while he himself felt a rush of nervousness and fear throb through him. They were already stressed enough as it was in keeping their secret, neither of them were really in a state where they wanted to hear about the Chamber. 

“...Maybe the attacks have stopped.” Harry slowly spoke, regretting every word which left his lips. “Perhaps the monster was so old that it died during the Holiday break and won’t come back?” He looked down at his book, trying hard to not show how uncomfortable he was. 

“That… is a possibility…” Neville sounded very hesitant as he agreed. “Maybe that’s why nothing has happened for so long? The monster might really be dead.” 

“That’s not very likely. Possible, but not likely.” Hermione shook her head, causing her curled locks to fly around her face. “I have a theory, based on a few facts in regards to the possibilities of what the monster is. Firstly-”

“Do we have to do this now?” Malfoy mumbled, avoiding looking at her as he spoke up. Harry could almost smell the stress coming from him. “We really don’t have a lot of time and I want this noted down before I forget the details.”

“But…” Hermione looked disappointed and a little hurt that nobody wanted to listen to her right that moment. 

“We can talk about it later, but for now, I agree that we should be focusing on schoolwork rather than hunting monsters. The teachers are more capable, they can take care of this without us children.” Harry opened the book which he had placed in front of him. “So what have you noted down so far?” He changed the topic, glancing at what Malfoy had written in his notes. 

Hermione seemed disappointed throughout the study session, but she didn’t try to raise the topic of the monster again. After some awkward time of studying, the general mood did brighten. By the time their session ended, everyone had managed to write about half of their respective essays, while Hermione had finished hers. 

The day continued without her addressing the topic of the monster again, leaving both Slytherin students to feel better as the day continued on. The following days, she tried to bring up the topic again, but they continuously avoided it until she gave up trying to speak of it. The two of them did feel bad to reject her to that degree, but they were also relieved to not speak of the Chamber of Secrets any more than needed.

Time continued on with no incidents happening, nobody was attacked or petrified, the Heir made no note of themselves, and even Moaning Myrtle didn’t flood the girl’s bathroom again. Harry and Malfoy didn’t exactly remove themselves from their friend groups, but they preferred to study with the Gryffindors or remain within the Slytherin common room when they didn’t have to study. 

After a particular long school day, Harry and Malfoy returned to the dormitory alone, while Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson remained in the common room. Harry walked over to his bed to change socks, as one of his had a hole in it which he had only noticed when it was too late to go back and change. 

“I should clearly have given you socks as your holiday present.” Malfoy looked disapprovingly at Harry’s broken sock. 

“It can be stitched up easily.” Harry assured the other. “It’s actually rather meditative to sew.” 

“Then I should perhaps give you yarn to make your own socks out of.” The blonde wizard chuckled, sitting down upon his own bed as he watched Harry jump around on one leg to search for a replacement sock. “I’ve been thinking to ask you something, what is that old book you have on your nightstand?” 

Harry, who had found a sock to replace his broken one, stood up straighter. “What… oh, that….” He began pulling the sock on, looking over at the book as well. “Myrtle threw it at me that day when she last flooded the corridor. I threw it there to dry and forgot about it, it must be completely ruined by all that water.” 

“May I have a look?” Malfoy reached for it as Harry nodded. “It’s strange, it looks… familiar.” The boy mumbled as he turned the book over. He opened it on the first page and read out loud. “Diary of T.M Riddle.” 

“Riddle? Isn’t that what Professor Binns calls me in History class?” Harry came over to sit down next to his friend. 

“Yes, this seems to be his diary but… It’s empty.” Malfoy flipped through the first pages until he reached the middle, where he stopped and simply closed it. “It seems that it was never used whatsoever.”

“Myrle said that someone had thrown it at her. It seems a little strange that someone would try and throw away an old diary without even writing in it.” The son of a werewolf frowned down at the book. “It looks so old… where could you possibly have seen an old diary like this? It looks old enough to be an artifact to me.” 

The blonde boy’s head snapped towards Harry with such speed that the green eyed boy pulled back. “That’s it… I… I’ve seen this book at my father’s study! This is one of the artifacts he has collected over the years.” Malfoy stared down at the diary with a mix of excitement and fear. 

“What… does it do?” The son of a werewolf stared at it as well. “Is it dangerous?” 

“I don’t know… maybe there are some written instructions in the back.” Malfoy flipped to the end and to both their great surprise, they found that somebody had indeed written in the diary, but from the wrong end. Mayfor flipped the book over, they both hesitated but then carefully started to read. They were both very aware that artifacts like this could be dangerous, and so they were ever so hesitant to expose themselves to possible danger. 

_Dear Diary,_

_or whatever. I’m not especially good at this._

_I’m really frustrated with my family and everything that has been going on here lately. My mom, my siblings, even my dad is acting all high and mighty about me. They are always pushing me down, scolding me, claiming that I’m not good enough. It sucks._

_At least I will go to Hogwarts soon, then I don’t have to deal with mom complaining about everything I do and demand that I worship Gilderoy Lockhart with them. I was forced to come with them to the signing, it was a drag as the store was full with people. I even saw Lucius Malfoy. Not that I’m scared of him, but he was really unpleasant to be around._

_Either way, mom is yelling at me to pack. It’s a whole week left but for some reason I have to pack right now. Hooray._

Harry and Malfoy glanced at one another, both frowning. “My father has not exactly been to a lot of Lockhart’s signings. He thinks the man is a fraud.” The blonde explained, looking back at his father’s name as it was written in the diary. “This must have been written last year, it doesn’t sound like something written by someone a long time ago.” 

“No, the words used are clearly not as old as the diary.” Harry agreed. “It sounds very modern.” 

“Should we… keep on reading?” Malfoy glanced at the son of a werewolf. “I wouldn’t exactly want someone to read my diary, but this might have information about the Chamber of Secrets or the Heir of Slytherin.” 

Harry nodded. “We might even get to know who the Heir is by reading it, then we can tell the teachers and they can apprehend the criminal?”

“Yes…” Malfoy licked his lips. “Yes, let us continue reading.” 

The person whose diary they were reading did not make note of any dates and was generally very unspecific with the details they mentioned. Phrases like ‘I was in a fight today’ didn’t give a lot of information or context, other than that they had been engaged in some manner of confrontation. The person appeared to be sad and lonely, they didn’t quite get along with the people in their House, and felt both bullied and left out. They were not good at magic, often complaining about how their wand was inherited and not made for them but that their family wasn’t taking them to get their own. It went on to speak about the way the author of the diary was often bullied by their family, especially their brothers. After many entries about the person’s misery, they reached one entry which they both found interesting. 

_Dear Diary,_

_today was horrible, like every other day. I feel so useless, I’m hardly any better than a Squib! Maybe I should just run away from Hogwarts and my family, nobody would really care if I just disappeared. I bet my family would just keep on without me, not even noticing._

_You are not useless._

_Bloody! Did you just write back to me? Am I losing it?_

_You are fine. I did write back to you. I’ve been reading everything you’ve written and I sympathise with you quite a lot. I want to support you, as your family and friends are clearly failing you._

_Who are you?_

_I want to be your friend. I want to be your support. I think that the world has been cruel to you, and your family most of all. There is no little wonder as to why you are incapable of performing magic like you should when they do not even grant you your own wand._

_Are you the guy whose name is on the cover? Are you T.M Riddle?_

_I am Riddle’s enchanted diary. When he was your age, he was also looked down upon despite his clear talents, and not given the respect he rightfully deserved. He created me to write with him when he was feeling down. I was created to be the friend of anyone who needed support from their diary. Use me as you see fit._

_So you’ll be my friend when I need one?_

_I will._

_Thank you._

_It is my pleasure._

“The diary spoke back to them?” Harry stared at the pages. “According to it, it is enchanted to be a friend but I’ve never heard of any enchantment like that.” 

“There is a lot more with that handwriting. Either this person has really lost in and is writing to themselves in a different style of writing, or the diary is enchanted. Let’s… keep on reading more.” Malfoy turned the page. 

The entries continued to be written by both T.M Riddle and the current owner of the diary. For pages, Riddle comforted the author, supporting them and befriending them. The entries started to begin with Dear Riddle, rather than Dear Diary, then quickly became Dear Tom. Rather than addressing a book, the author was speaking to a friend. 

_Dear Tom,_

_I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in. It's like a friend I can carry around in my pocket._

_I’m very pleased to be able to assist you, and I have in fact come to wish to confide in you with a secret of my own._

_A secret of your own? You can tell me anything, Tom._

_Thank you. The truth is, despite your claims that people believe you to be a blood traitor, I believe that there is great magic to your blood. To prove it, I want to entrust you with the mission which was once entrusted onto me: to fulfill the noble work of Salazar Slytherin._

_I… I don’t understand. What is noble about Slytherin? All Slytherins are evil, cruel and full of themselves. Well, everyone except you, Tom._

_Thank you, but allow me to explain. Slytherin was not evil, he simply believed in the inherent magic of blood. He would have liked you a lot, he would have seen your potential, as I do._

_But Slytherin is all about killing Muggle-borns? I don’t want to kill anyone._

_Those Muggle-borns who have done nothing but hurting you. You’ve tried to help them, tried to befriend and be kind to them, and all they’ve done is bully you in return for your lack of magic, which is not a problem inherent to you but the fact that you were never given a fair chance, or a wand of your own. If you will allow me, I will show you what magic you are worthy of wielding, the raw, untamed power which you are capable of commanding._

_I don’t know… They have all treated me badly but…_

_Then let me show you, my friend. There is no need to kill anyone, the monster is more versatile than that. Have I ever said something which isn’t true? You deserve this power, you deserve to have them respect you._

_Tom… Will you show me the Chamber of Secrets? Is that truly what you are saying?_

_Yes, my friend. You are worthy of being the Heir of Slytherin, by right of your blood. Come, I will show you the way, rip the page out afterwards so that nobody may follow, and burn it._

_Alright. I trust you._

Harry and Malfoy once more stared at one another, the diary itself soundlessly witnessing to them that the Chamber existed, and that T.M Riddle knew the way, as the next page had been ripped out as instructed. They both lacked words as they continued to read the next entry. 

_The cat! That horrible, evil, frightening cat was petrified! She has been looking at me with those horrible eyes since I started this year. I’ve been terrified of her, and now I’m free! The message we wrote also added to the school’s reaction. Everyone is talking about me, respecting me… the Heir of Slytherin! This is amazing, Tom, I have never felt so respected in my life! So what about lacking magic? What if I can’t get points for my House? I was worthy of something which nobody has been worthy of for fifty years! Haha!_

_Indeed you are. I’m very proud of you. I wish I could have seen the reaction with my own eyes._

_I… I must be more famous than Harry Potter at this point! I’ve definitely outshined him with me being the Heir of Slytherin, right?_

_You have._

_Is it strange of me to feel this angry towards him? I guess I used to adore him like everyone else and now I just feel all this hatred towards him, I’m not even sure why._

_It’s alright to hate. You are not required to love anyone. Your mother likes that fraud Lockhart, right? Just because others love him doesn’t mean you have to, it is alright to reject their forced ideals and hate instead. You deserve to be praised, yet nobody praises you. Now, revel in your victory. You have the right to savor it._

_I do! You are right as always Tom. Haha!_

_Haha._

“This is creepy to read…” Harry shuddered as Malfoy turned the page. He was not comfortable with reading about somebody whose feelings towards him had turned into some form of misaligned hatred. He would have been uncomfortable with worship too, but this change of attitude felt far more terrifying. 

_Dear Tom,_

_Everyone is blaming Draco Malfoy for what happened, claiming him to be the Heir of Slytherin. It is not as if I want them to suspect me because I don’t want to be thrown out of Hogwarts, but it is clear that Malfoy is loving the attention! Everyone is whispering about him, and the strong magic he must possess._ _It’s making me sick! He is enjoying the attention so much! Can’t we attack him?_

_He is a pureblood, we cannot attack him. That would do against what we are trying to do. Malfoy is the perfect target for their suspicions, it keeps you safe. Just imagine their reaction if they do start a witch hunt and burn Malfoy and it solves nothing. Would that not be more satisfactory than to make him a martyr who was unjustly accused?_

_I suppose you are right again. Thank you for keeping me calm in times like these._

_It is my duty and pleasure as a friend._

_Dear Tom,_

_Today everyone is back to talking about Harry Potter! He made a spectacle out of himself during the last Quidditch game by falling off the stand! All for attention of course, the Slytherin Captain caught him, crashing in the process, which he would never do just to be nice. They must have faked the entire thing for the sake of returning focus to Potter. Why does he always have to have all the attention always?_

_They arranged it all for attention? How very despicable._

_Yeah! And now a guy from my House is planning on sneaking out to get to Potter when he is alone in the sick ward. It’s this little mudblood who is always clambering around Potter and claiming him to be the most talented mage there ever was. He is just like every Lockhart fan who just will not stop going on and on about the man when he doesn’t even deserve their admiration in the first place._

_So this Mudblood will be all alone, trying to get to the hospital wing?_

_Yep, all for the sake of boosting Potter’s ego._

_I do have a proposal for you then, my dear friend. Instead of allowing your anger to fume, why not put it to good use? He will be all alone, the perfect first human to try your powers on? You don’t even have to leave this room. I will write you instructions on the next page, rip it out and burn it once you have followed them._

_We’re attacking a human now? I’m not sure if…_

_You want to prove your power? You want to be respected as the Heir of Slytherin? Then you must continue your work. A cat is not much, a successful attack on a person will grant you all the respect you require and more. People will forget that Potter ever existed. You already know you can control the beast, now is your chance to display that power. There is no harm in it, as the Headmaster stated, once the Mandragora have grown, the petrified will revert back to normal. Not only shall you have proven your might, but you will not have to deal with the Mudblood for a long time. You will be free._ _  
_ _  
_ _I suppose that’s true. Thank you, I’m really not good with figuring these things out myself._ _  
_ _  
_ _Nonsense, you’re doing splendid. You have come to see the reality of your situation and unfair treatment, and you are taking control back into your own hands._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thank you._ _  
_ _  
_ _You’re welcome, my friend._

“This is-..”  
  
Harry tried to voice all the unpleasant and uncomfortable things he was feeling right then, but it was too much to take in. He glanced up at Malfoy who seemed to share his sentiment. Malfoy seemed even more uncomfortable, and angry even, to know that he had been targeted for the blame unjustly. Harry had heard him huff in an upset tone when they read about the Quidditch game.  
  
While every new page came with uncomfortable new revelations, it was near impossible to stop reading. Maybe if they continue there would be something, anything, helpful in it all. Something to help identify the Heir. Thus far, all the useful information seemed to have been ripped out of the diary.  
  
From thereon it was rather simple to see how Tom Riddle was manipulating this person by using their insecurities and anger. It had been very obvious from the beginning, but Harry truly felt uncomfortable reading how Riddle was slowly pushing, convincing them of one thing after another without going too far all at once. The diary continued for a bit, mostly consisting of conversation and Riddle comforting the owner, efficiently exploiting their weaknesses. There was nothing particularly noteworthy which hadn’t been there in the previous pages. It did however note the killing of the roosters as a countermeasure to ensure the beast’s safety, whatever that meant. It didn’t change much until it recited the duelling club and the owner’s anger and hatred towards Harry himself now that everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. Just like previously, it seemed to hurt the owner immensely that they weren’t recognised for their deeds, which made Harry wonder if the person was only acting on emotion or thinking at all. Clearly the person was not thinking of the consequences, or potential consequences of all the crimes they committed. 

It was also scary to see someone so easily tricked into the Pureblood mentality, and Harry could tell that Malfoy was getting increasingly more uncomfortable with every passage discussing the topic. They both could understand how much it would hurt a student to not even have their own wand, and being bullied for things they couldn’t even control. The both of them had experienced what it was like to be bullied for things they couldn’t control in being claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin. 

In a sense, the owner reminded both of Myrtle and Parkinson in the way they acted. 

It seemed that the Heir of Slytherin had gotten very upset with Justin Finch-Fletchley, deciding him to be the cause for everyone mistaking Harry for the Heir. Only then did Harry realise that Finch-Fletchley had been the Hufflepuff boy which the snake had almost attacked. Not surprisingly it in turn led to Riddle suggesting to remove that boy as well. Even less surprisingly at this point, the Heir obeyed. 

What was surprising was the entries which followed.

  
  
_You said the beast would obey me! You promised I was in control! I can’t even remember what happened! By Merlin I could have, I could have become a murderer…_ _  
_ _  
_ _Calm down, friend. We’ve talked about making good use of anger. Please try to breathe for a few moments before accusing your friend and tell me what happened._ _  
_ _  
_ _I nearly killed him! If that ghost hadn’t accidentally stepped between I would be a murderer and I can’t even remember it! You did this, didn’t you? You’re the one who wanted me to fulfill the duty of Salazar Slytherin. You’re the one who is saying we don’t need the mudbloods. I didn’t want him dead and I don’t remember anything of what happened!_ _  
_ _  
_ _Those are very hasty accusations. Much rather than blaming an enchanted diary, are you certain that you didn’t actually want it? It is said that people tend to be blinded by rage._

_I’ve never blacked out before! You’re lying, it couldn’t have been me. I didn’t want to kill him. You want to kill them. If I became a murderer they would expel me. No, I would be sent to Azkaban for my crimes! I don’t want to go to Azkaban!_

_Calm down, friend. Nobody is sending you to Azkaban. Even if you would have killed the mudblood, it would not be traceable back to you. When I opened the Chamber the last time, nobody was able to trace it to me, and I even had that giant you’ve mentioned expelled in my stead. You are in control, and I will protect you._

_You had Hagrid expelled? What do you mean?_

_When I opened the Chamber and began fulfilling my duty as the Heir, the school rejected Slytherin's objective, leading them to not only overlook his ideas, but choosing to shut the entirety of Hogwarts down rather than simply remove the unworthy. This put me in quite the uncomfortable situation, for I had no home to return to. Thus, the attacks had to stop and the Heir needed to be removed from Hogwarts._

_Luckily, there was a boy who was illegally raising a young Acromantula in a cupboard. He was never intelligent enough to have found or opened the Chamber of Secrets, not like you my friend. I closed the Chamber and sealed the monster within it, waiting for a chance when another worthy Pureblood would come to complete the ambition of Salazar Slytherin. It is not hard to point at an innocent when the desperate, incompetent hunters are hungry for blood. This can easily be blamed on somebody else than you, friend. Nobody even suspected me to be the one behind the attacks, as will nobody suspect your involvement. Do calm yourself._

_I… I understand. Yes. Good. Nobody will suspect me?_

_Not a soul._

_I’m not so sure I will be able to issue another attack anytime soon, I need some time to recover. The entire school seems to be in an uproar, I’m scared._

_You are safe. Do take some time to reflect. I will be here to guide you and help declutter your thoughts. Remember, I am but a diary designed to be your friend and guide._

_Alright. Yes. Good night, Tom._

_Good night._

After that entry, the diary remained non persuasive for a while but then returned to slowly pushing the new Heir into returning to attacking Muggle-born students. At first, it was subtle, and gentle. The diary was understanding and did not push. Then there seemed to have been a break where the author did not write for a while. 

When they did return to writing in the diary, they seemed to just have returned to Hogwarts after the Holiday break. The author explained to the diary that they had returned home and had come to a few conclusions about the fact that they were loved. Although they were still unhappy about some things, they were nonetheless convinced that they were loved by their family. The diary had seemed calm at first, trying to convince the young Hogwarts student that they were not loved, urging them to recall their hate and their fury. 

The following entries turned more and more abusive from the diary’s part. Its words became harsh, it criticised the author, and tried to push them, tried to make them obey. Yet the Heir did not fall for it this time, they rejected Riddle’s diary until the point where the entries just stopped. 

Malfoy turned to glance at Harry, who was staring at the blank page. 

“Whoever had the diary must have tried to get rid of it…” Malfoy summarised in a shaking voice. “They tried to do it in that ghost’s bathroom and must have hit her with it when trying to do that.” He licked his lips. “Whatever this diary has said, it’s not a normal enchanted diary. My father would not keep such an item in his collection. It must be far more than what it is claiming to be.” 

“Yes… Yes, that seems to be-” Harry stopped midway through the sentence as he noticed something which sent chills down his spine. The blank page which he had been staring at was no longer blank. Words were forming, as if an invisible writer was sitting next to them, spelling out the words in real time. 

_Naughty children, reading somebody else’s diary._

They both stared down at the words, written in the hand of T.M Riddle. Malfoy reacted first by slamming the book shut and throwing it away. It laid still where it had landed, looking completely harmless. 

After a while, the two of them let out the breath which they had been collectively holding. It seemed the diary wasn’t moving. The first to recover enough to speak again was Malfoy, who looked like he was thinking so hard it nearly hurt him. “The Heir is a Pureblood. They were there during the Lockhart signing and at least saw my father, maybe even met him up close. They don’t have their own wand, which is by the way insane since the school has funds to help students who cannot afford required equipment. The Heir is not a Slytherin. They don’t get along with their own House and feel left out and bullied. They’re bad at magic. People think they’re a blood traitor… I can only think of one family of blood traitors currently attending Hogwarts.”  
  
Malfoy turned towards Harry with urgency once he had finished his summary. “It has to be a Weasley, right?” He stopped for a second before he continued “Don’t look at me like that, I am being serious! It’s not just because I don’t like them, but it makes sense here. I know their family can’t really afford equipment and it wouldn’t surprise me if they couldn’t afford wands.”  
  
Harry didn’t like the idea of accusing anyone, but it was probably better to at least reason about it all than not. The diary was still unmoving. “It does make sense… who would it be though? Aren’t there like five or six of their family attending Hogwarts right now?”  
  
“Five,” Malfoy responded without hesitating. Harry reasoned the other had probably heard it stated from his father or something. “It probably isn’t the twins, they are always together. I don’t think anyone but the twins, Ron Weasley and the younger sister were there during the signing. At least I didn’t see anyone.”  
  
Harry nodded. In the distress of having found out about the Heir and everything regarding it, Malfoy was reasoning very well based on the evidence of what they had found out. “So… it was most likely either Ron Weasley or, uh, what was her name again?” Malfoy shrugged, clearly not remembering the name of the youngest Weasley either.  
  
Before speaking next, Harry hesitated a little, but he still spoke. “Didn’t… Didn’t your dad touch Ron Weasley’s cauldron and books? Maybe he slipped the diary into that cauldron?”  
  
Malfoy looked uncomfortable at the mention of his father, but still sighed and nodded. “Although, the diary didn’t mention anything about… you know, the whole… uh the day at the Quidditch field when he hexed himself. Also, didn’t you find this in the girl’s bathroom? I don’t have any interest in or know the slightest bit about the sister, but it seems to make more sense.”  
  
“That’s true.” Harry had to agree with that reasoning, although there was no concrete evidence that either of the two Weasleys were guilty to begin with. 

There was a pause, they had just discovered the actual method which had been used to execute the plot, namely the diary. It was very overwhelming for the both of them. 

Harry took a deep breath and spoke up again. “Do you… think the diary lied about controlling the Heir? As you said, it’s clearly not an enchanted diary. Do you think it can do harm like this?”  
  
Malfoy looked doubtful as he reasoned about the question. “Maybe… maybe you have to write in the diary to be controlled by it? I don’t think the diary has a lot of power because it seemed very desperate in trying to convince the Heir to commit those crimes for it. Also… it’s clearly aware of what is happening around it, but it doesn’t mean it can do anything about it.”  
  
The blonde wizard sighed and then continued, “what do we do about it though? I will not tell people when the diary mentions my father by name like that.” He sounded determined, and a little bit afraid that Harry would disagree with him.  
  
Harry thought about it for a while. “Maybe we don’t have to do anything. If we keep the diary safe and away where nobody can use it, the attacks will stop, right? If we stay together then one of us would know if the other started acting strangely or possessed.” 

“Yes, yes that is probably for the best,” Malfoy agreed.  
  
The two boys sighed once more. Neither of the two wanted to have more secrets or more to fear, but they still couldn’t think of anything else to do. 


	16. Chapter 15 - in which Hermione Granger does not attend the Quidditch game in favor of researching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius Malfoy realised that he had been outspoken, causing him to change the subject. “Well then, Draco.” He turned towards his son yet again. “It so happens that Dumbledore has once again kept some rather important details from the Board of Hogwarts Governors in that he has allowed a criminal to remain on the grounds of Hogwarts after he was expelled around fifty years ago.” 

Harry and Malfoy decided that they would keep the book with them at all times so as to not let it fall into the hands of somebody who might be manipulated by the diary into continuing what the former Heir had started. They had reasoned, based on some research of magical artifacts, and the fact that they seemed unaffected by the diary, that one probably had to write in it to be affected by it. As Malfoy had spent a lot of time the previous term avoiding Harry and running from his feelings and duties, they reasoned that it was safer for Harry to keep the book in his bag and have his friend check up on him frequently. In the beginning, they were both very nervous about the whole thing, but time passed and nothing changed. Harry felt no different and the diary just came to lay at the bottom of his bag, untouched and partly forgotten. 

As time passed on, Professor Dumbledore kept the school updated with information, occasionally addressing everyone during dinner. Despite the fact that nobody else had been attacked, he, and the teachers, made certain to attempt to keep the students as safe as possible. Even as school continued quietly, people were not supposed to stay out late or wander about the castle alone. It felt good to know that the adults were trying to protect them.  
  
Professor Dumbledore also addressed how the school had attempted to get help from the Ministry, and Aurors for further protection. However, it seemed the Board of Governors for the school considered it unnecessary, and claimed to not believe the Chamber of Secrets to exist in the first place. Hence, the school was on its own in protecting the students, but was valiantly working to ensure their safety.  
  
Of course, Harry and Malfoy were very uncomfortable with said information, knowing that Lucius Malfoy was currently chairman of said Board of Governors. It was clearly part of the plot. At the very least, the two twelve year olds felt in some semblance of control as they had captured the source of the attacks. It felt like they had the upper hand.

Another Quidditch game came and went, Harry stayed away from it, reading about the sport and was later told all about the game by Malfoy. 

Blaise started to spend more time with Harry and Malfoy again, once the rumors about them being the Heir of Slytherin had all but been forgotten. Malfoy was bothered by the other’s lack of loyalty towards his friends but Harry didn’t quite feel the same. Blaise himself calmly explained that he didn’t ask any of them to stick up for him or stick with him through thick and thin. They were friends, not married. There were no absolute vows which any of them had taken for the sake of their friendship. For Malfoy to demand that Blaise place himself in an uncomfortable situation for the sake of them when they clearly didn’t actually need him personally, was unfair towards Blaise. Harry agreed with Blaise, even if he would rather have seen that Blaise did more towards their friendship than avoid them, he couldn’t fault his logic. 

With Blaise came Nott. The boy didn’t feel especially locked to any one group but he thought it endlessly funny to try and cause a reaction in Blaise. He joked, probed and played around, but every time Blaise told him that he had enough, Nott backed off. Harry couldn’t help but feel very good around Nott due to his relaxed and happy nature. Not that the boy was always happy and always active, but he generally was and it was often a welcome distraction to whatever else was going on. 

Crabbe was continuously spending time around Parkinson, some people were still teasing them for being a couple but most such teasing had died away. Parkinson was still a personal friend project for Crabbe, who protected her against the people who teased her but also tried to influence her to be a better person herself. It wasn’t that he was pushing anything onto her or forcing her to change, he was simply questioning her whenever she acted out, helping and guiding her. It seemed to have a very positive effect on her life, after not having spent a lot of time around her, Harry was happy and surprised to learn that she was actually rather pleasant to talk to these days. Still spiteful and prone to attacking before being attacked, but she could do more than just be that. 

Goyle was mostly spending his time with Crabbe and Parkinson. He seemed satisfied with just being allowed to come with them, mostly standing in the background or getting lost in whatever worlds he saw in his head. Harry was a little worried that he felt let out, but the boy said that he was satisfied with the way things were, especially now that the group was spending more time together all of them. 

Harry and Malfoy did revert to spending more time with their Slytherin classmates but continuously studied with Neville and Hermione. The Gryffindor girl was still intent on speaking to them about her ideas behind what the monster could be, but when even Neville joined in on thinking that the attacks might have stopped for good, she finally gave up trying to include them in her research. 

“Fine. I won’t talk about it anymore and I will look on my own. I will be researching snake monstrosities and the like, if you need me, I will be in the Magical Beasts section.” 

That was the last she mentioned of it to them specifically.

Both Slytherins felt guilty about silencing her when she was logically doing the right thing, but they felt a little better as Neville expressed his relief in being allowed to not think about the Chamber of Secrets for a while. He continued to speak of his fear of being attacked, as he was little more than a Squib himself. Malfoy reminded him that he was a Pureblood, but it didn’t seem to calm Neville any less. The Gryffindor boy reminded them in return that he was essentially seen as a blood traitor by most due to his lacking abilities. The use of ‘blood traitor’ made both Slytherin students uncomfortable, as it reminded them far too much of the discussion the Heir had been having with T.M Riddle’s diary. 

Malfoy later asked Harry if he believed it possible for Neville to be the Heir but they both concluded rather quickly that the theory had far too many holes in it for it to even be considered. Excluding the fact that his best friend was Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom would never use the word mudblood. Yet the strongest evidence for that Neville was not the Heir of Slytherin came in the form of the fact that he had no siblings and had not returned home during the Holidays. 

To Harry’s delight, the reasoning seemed to be very relieving for Malfoy, who seemed to truly not want to think of his Gryffindor friend as the culprit. 

Somehow, Lockhart had gotten the credit for scaring away the Heir of Slytherin and putting a halt to the attack. Some claimed that he had started the rumors himself but Harry found it a lot more likely that some student had started it and it had spread. He thought that to be the more logical conclusion as the man himself did not try to fuel the rumors by claiming that he put an halt to the attacks. He did address that it could be because of his reputation, but never claimed that it was for certain. Lockhart himself seemed to revel in not quite confirming or denying the suspicions of whether or not he scared away the Heir, even if he claimed to not having stated anything to start the rumors.  
  
At the very least, it seemed Lockhart was, after almost a whole year, starting to run out of stories from his books to force upon his students. His teachings were still comparatively competent, and now that he was starting to be out of material about himself, he was focusing even more on the regular curriculum. It was very helpful with the exams approaching.

Weeks turned into a month, one month turned to two, and so time marched on without any attacks. Other than the forbiddance to go anywhere alone, things truly returned to normal. 

“The final game of the season!” Malfoy’s loud voice seemed to almost echo in the common room as he spoke of the final Quidditch game. Harry couldn’t quite tell if he was upset or happy, he seemed to be between the two. “Somehow we managed to stay in the Cup, even after Flint was hurt. He hasn’t been able to play but he is making a comeback this game! This game is an all or nothing fight for points. Hufflepuff has a new Seeker named Diggory and he has been beyond terrific this season, I am going to have to fight tooth and nail to bring home the Snitch.” 

Harry, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott applauded his speech. 

“I’ve never heard you talk like this.” Parkinson blinked at the blonde wizard. 

“He’s just nervous, let him psych himself up.” Blaise smiled behind his book. 

“Either way, I have to go to the game now, you aren’t allowed to come, Lupin.” If Malfoy had heard Parkinson, he made a very good show of pretending that he hadn’t. “I am going to catch the Snitch with or without you watching, just you wait.” He continued rambling, clearly trying to motivate himself for the upcoming game.

“How romantic.” Nott grinned, leaning his head in his hands. 

“Come to me with the freshly slain corpse of the Golden Snitch in your arms, and I may consider your marriage proposal.” Harry laughed. 

“Bah, when I do marry, it will be for political gain, not love.” Malfoy countered, trying to keep himself from laughing. 

“Have fun at the game.” Blaise waved as Malfoy began walking away, followed by those who intended to watch the game. Only Harry and Blaise remained seated. “So what are your plans for the day?” Blaise spoke to Harry, placing his book aside. 

“I was just going to read here until everyone comes back.” Harry stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “What about you?” 

“It’s been a while since we talked.” The handsome boy smiled at him. “I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over a game of Wizard Chess?” 

Harry grinned back. “I’d love to.” 

They set up the game and began playing. Blaise talked a little about what he had been busying himself with, as well as shared a few stories about Nott’s inventions. Harry talked about his friendship with Malfoy, keeping from going into too detailed descriptions but summarising that he wasn’t sure if he had ever felt so comfortable with anyone his own age. Unlike what someone else might have said in response, Blaise was simply happy about their friendship and didn’t make any unwelcome comments about the two of them dating or falling in love. Harry appreciated that. He felt like he would have been comfortable with telling Blaise more about what Malfoy was going through but he didn’t feel like it was his place to tell his friend’s secrets. 

“I feel so tired of everything being about relationships.” Blaise said as he moved his knight forward, watching as it crushed one of Harry’s pawns on the board with the same disinterest as he observed most things. “A person apparently cannot do anything without being labelled romantically interested in whoever they are spending time around. Your friend Longbottom was chased away from Granger last year because of people’s incessant need to put a label on their relationship. By label, I mean loudly deciding that it is romantic. A relationship should mean more than romance. Love should mean more than romantic partner love. I’m happy that you and Malfoy have found a friendship. It’s so refreshing to hear you talk about him as a friend without a thousand disclaimers.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“People have been talking about me and Teddy ever since we started spending time with one another, it’s frankly disgusting me. Even more so when calling him Teddy means that we are beyond doubt definitely dating.” Blaise watched as Harry’s bishop shattered his knight all over the board with one swing of its scepter. “I’m… I feel so tired of people. I can’t wait to just disappear in this larger group and be allowed some peace of mind.” 

“I understand what you mean.” Harry smiled carefully at him. “I’m not on the same level of tiredness as you are, but I do understand what you are talking about.”

Blaise stared at the chessboard once more, carefully reaching out and poking at a piece of what was once his knight. “Thank you for not demanding I do more for you. I don’t have the energy to get involved, or do I wish to recover from the labels which people are throwing around left and right. I know I have every right to do what I’ve done, but it feels good to just have it accepted and not challenged.” 

“Friendship isn’t about always talking, right? Sometimes taking a break from one another isn’t a bad thing, and sometimes those breaks make people outgrow one another. If you stay away for too long, we might just be different people when we meet again.” Harry smiled at the other, not accusingly and not patronisingly, he simply smiled. “And that’s alright.” 

“I guess that could happen.” Blaise moved a pawn this time. “Maybe the two new people we became can become friends as well, or something like that.” 

“Something like that indeed.” The son of a werewolf agreed. He pushed one of his pawns forward. “Check.” 

At that moment, Professor Snape stepped inside the common room. He almost never visited unless he was walking some first year student back closer to curfew so his presence in the room was more than a little absurd to the students. He spotted Harry and Blaise but signalled only for Harry to come with him. The son of a werewolf excused himself and hurried after his Potions Professor. On their way out, they ran into the entirety of the Slytherin House who seemed to be retreating back to their common room with worried looks on their faces. 

The man stopped and let his House pass, scanning the crowd for something. He found Malfoy and called out for him. The blonde wizard joined them, still dressed in his Quidditch uniform and gear, holding his broom in one hand. 

“What is-” Malfoy tried to ask the man but Professor Snape only showed for them to follow. 

Harry was getting an increasingly uncomfortable, sickening feeling in his stomach as their route took them towards the hospital wing. His worst fears were all but confirmed when their small group ran into Professor McGonagall and Neville, alongside an older Weasley whose name Harry didn’t know, but who he knew to be a Prefect. Neville looked confused while the older Weasley sibling looked frightened. 

They entered the sick ward, where Professor McGonagall turned towards them. “There has been another attack. This time, two students have been petrified.” She breathed, trying to appear less shaken than she was. “The victims are Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger.” 

Weasley gasped, placing his hand over his mouth in shock. Neville turned so pale that his complexion matched with Malfoy’s natural paleness. Harry stared at the teacher as if he couldn’t understand what she had just said. 

“No…” Malfoy whispered. 

“Penny is… c-can I see her? Please?” Weasley looked at the Head of his House with pleading eyes, and was pointed towards the place where said person supposedly lay. He hurried over without another word. Not long after, sobs began coming from behind the divider. 

“Where is… Where is Hermione…?” Neville whispered, urging Professor McGonagall to show them her bed. 

They found her laying stiff in one of the sickbeds, her eyes glazed over and her body stiff. She was holding both her hands to her chest, as if gripping something, her eyes angled slightly down while her expression confessed to terror. Malfoy hid his mouth behind his hand as Neville slowly stumbled forward and sat down next to her in a chair which had been placed next to her bed. His expression turned gentle as he carefully started to speak to her in a low, kind voice. He spoke in a way which made it seem as if he wasn’t expecting her to hear him or understand, and yet he spoke. Harry couldn’t tell if he did it to soothe her or try and soothe himself. 

Harry couldn’t think of anything to do but stare. He felt like his entire mind had frozen still, and all he could do was look upon the girl’s terrified expression and imagine who could possibly do something like that to another person. He had thought he understood the terror of the situation but that understanding felt laughable compared to the emotions he felt now that his close friend had become a victim. 

Something grabbed Harry’s arm, causing him to wince in pain. Upon looking to the right, he found that Malfoy had gripped his arm tightly. “How can this be happening?” The blonde wizard whispered. “We have the diary, how can the attacks still continue?” He was speaking in a subtle voice, allowing only Harry to hear his words. 

“I don’t know.” Harry whispered back. He reached for his bag but found that he had left it in the common room. “Do you think it has been stolen?” 

“How?” Malfoy’s stressed voice demanded answers. 

“I don’t know, it’s my bag, not Gringotts.” 

“Why didn’t you watch your bag closer knowing that it was in there?” Malfoy tried very hard to not raise his voice.

“Why didn’t you watch it closer knowing that it was in there?” Harry lost some of his composure when his friend blamed him for the diary possibly being stolen from his bag. 

He understood that he should probably have kept a better eye on said bag but being blamed for it now wouldn’t change anything. They didn’t even know if the diary had been stolen or not without checking first. 

“What are you two talking about?” Neville had come up to them, looking rather displeased. “This is a hospital, what are you fighting about? It’s very disrespectful towards the patients and the staff.” Neville’s words seemed rehearsed, as if he had heard them so many times that they had become natural for him to utter. 

“We… are not fighting.” Harry slowly spoke up, avoiding to look at the Gryffindor as he spoke. 

“Good, just please try and keep this zone stress free. Just because she can’t hear us doesn’t mean that she is immune to agitation.” Another line which sounded a little too natural, as if the boy had heard it so many times that he knew exactly how to formulate himself on the topic. It made Harry uncomfortable to think about what situations Neville must have been through to have to add those types of sentences to his vocabulary. 

As Harry was well aware of what had happened to Neville’s parents, he understood where the Gryffindor had likely heard all this being said, but he didn’t want to think about it. It was too sad and he was currently experiencing more stress than he could handle. 

“Are you staying or leaving?” Neville asked, showing towards the bed. Harry and Malfoy went to get chairs before they sat down on the other side of the bed, opposite to the Gryffindor boy. 

For a while, they sat in silence, all of them trying to both look at the petrified girl and not look at her while listening to Weasley cry over the Ravenclaw Prefect. Finally there was a sob next to Harry as Malfoy started to cry. His tears pushed Neville over the edge, who started to cry as well. Harry could feel himself choking up, but he wasn’t quite able to cry. It was not that Harry thought it was hard to cry in general, but he found it very hard to cry in front of people who weren’t his dad. It was a lot easier to handle the situation by helping Malfoy rather than allow himself to be sad.

The three friends remained by Hermione’s bed for what felt like an eternity but also not nearly long enough. They were called back to the present by Professor Snape, who addressed the students who belonged to his House through the divider. 

“I have duties to return to. I will walk you back to your common room.” The Potions Master sounded strict as always, but his voice was not without hints of compassion. 

Harry and Malfoy said goodbye to Neville, who seemed to want to stay a little longer. Since the Gryffindor Prefect was still in the hospital wing, Neville could leave with him and still be safe, at least according to the rules. 

When they exited the booth where Hermione rested, Snape’s eyes fell on Malfoy’s wrecked appearance. His expression didn’t change, but his gaze turned gentler as he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “You might want to wash your face off before we leave.” When he spoke, his voice was very silent and at least slightly concerned. The boy nodded in response but didn’t face his teacher, instead keeping his head low. 

The group stopped by the closest boys’ bathroom to allow Malfoy to wash his face and compose himself. Harry remained standing outside with the Professor who continuously turned back and forth so as to not have anyone or anything approach them without his knowing. His wand was drawn and his posture like that of when he was demonstrating how to duel. 

When Malfoy excited the bathroom, he looked a lot better and a lot more collected. Harry gave him an encouraging smile which was just plagued enough by the day’s events that it seemed slightly disingenuous. The blonde wizard seemed to appreciate it nonetheless as he smiled back and nodded. 

The Professor and his students continued on towards the Slytherin common room. They entered the entrance hall, as they did, they all noticed the person who was standing in the middle of the hall at the same time. Harry quickly raised his hand to make certain that his hair covered his scar as Lucius Malfoy turned towards the sound of their footsteps. The man looked somewhat surprised to see them, but only enough that his eye twitched with surprise. He waited for their group to reach him, upon which Professor Snape spoke. 

“Good day, Lucius. I presume you to be searching for the Headmaster.” The man bowed his head slightly in a greeting, upon which Mr. Malfoy did the same. 

“Good day to you Severus. The Headmaster was not in his office, I was told that he has joined the Minister of Magic to apprehend the man behind the attacks on Muggle-born students.” Harry realised that the man had a peculiar way of talking, one which was somehow factual yet false, polite yet condescending. He was clearly behaving as if Professor Snape was a close acquaintance of his, but also as if his words could turn to insult at any time. In a moment of recognition, Harry realised that the older Malfoy was speaking a more evolved version of the way his son had spoken when he and Harry first met. 

“Good day, father.” Malfoy bowed towards his dad, not in an overly dramatic fashion, but in a humble gesture which spoke of respect. “What do you mean with apprehending the criminal?”

“Good day.” Harry mimicked his friend’s greeting, standing to the side and a little behind the Professor as to avoid being looked at or addressed. 

Luicus Malfoy frowned at his son, or more directly at his sleeves. “I’ve told you that I’d prefer you wearing the cufflinks I’ve purchased for you, rather than those cheap things. You will not be taken seriously if someone of importance learns that you walk around with Muggle-made objects.” As his son was addressed about the cufflinks, he averted his eyes, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable, even if he was attempting to not let it show. 

“Lucius. This is a school, not a Ministry board meeting.” To Harry’s surprise, relief and pride, Professor Snape responded in the blonde boy’s stead, calmly looking the older Malfoy in the eyes as he spoke. 

The blonde man realised that he had been outspoken, causing him to change the subject. “Well then, Draco.” He turned towards his son yet again. “It so happens that Dumbledore has once again kept some rather important details from the Board of Hogwarts Governors in that he has allowed a criminal to remain on the grounds of Hogwarts after he was expelled around fifty years ago.” 

Harry and Malfoy exchanged looks. They knew from Tom Riddle’s diary that Hagrid had been framed for the crimes, they had possessed the truth which could have freed the man from that supposed guilt and yet they had done nothing. 

“You speak of Rubeus Hagrid then.” Professor Snape concluded. “I did not think that information was concealed in any way from the Board.” 

“If it was not directly reported to the Board, it was concealed.” Malfoy summarised with a stern tone of voice. “We were only informed because of the Ministry’s arrest. Thus, the Board of Governors has come to the conclusion that Dumbledore has failed the school, students, and the Board. Ah, but you will all receive more information about this tomorrow.” He stopped himself from speaking with an amused look on his face, as if he was keeping a rather exciting secret from them. 

“I… see.” Even Professor Snape seemed somewhat at a loss for words as to what to respond to the man with. 

“Last time, his incompetence caused the death of a poor Muggle-born girl. It was a great tragedy.” Harry almost felt ill as he listened to the man, the sickening feeling coming from knowing just how little Lucius Malfoy cared about that girl’s death. Not to mention that the man was to blame for these events in the first place. “Criminals must be punished for their offences, how else can society come to rely on its own credibility?” The man mused, causing the sickening feeling in Harry to increase further. 

“Father…?” Next to him, Malfoy carefully spoke up. “Do you believe criminals must always be punished for their crimes?” 

The man almost scoffed with the absurdity of the question. “Of course, Draco.” 

Silence lingered after his words, where Lucius Malfoy looked proud, confident that his stern words had caused a triumphant silence on his part. That was not the case, but nobody present spoke up about that fact. 

“I must take the students back to their common room now. I shall speak with you at a later time.” Professor Snape excused them, causing the man to wave them away as if they had far outstayed their welcome. 

When they were out of sight, Harry reached for Malfoy’s hand and squeezed it. The boy squeezed his back, clearly needing the affection. 

“Professor Snape?” Harry asked the man in front of them, who did not turn to look back at him. “Do you believe that criminals must always be punished?” 

“I do not believe in ‘always.’” The Potions Master responded. “I believe that there are always circumstances which must be considered, along with so much more. I believe there is always a story behind crimes. In conclusion, there is never an absolute always which can be applied to every scenario.” 

The two boys looked at one another, both feeling calmed by the man’s words. They both knew that they had a lot to talk about that evening, and they weren’t exactly looking forward to the choice which they both knew that they would have to make that day or the next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Petrification**  
>  The idea has been seen since ancient mythology and isn't that uncommon that the gaze of the beast alone can turn a creature unmoving, often reduce them into stone. 
> 
> That seems to not be what is happening in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, as the people are still alive but somehow frozen in time-space, we've considered the actual effect Petrification has on the human body. 
> 
> If one considers physics even in its simplest form, mass as energy, or consider cell biology, there is no point where everything can simply stop perfectly and remain frozen. 
> 
> We consider the effect to not be entirely different from that [rigor mortis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rigor_mortis), which is to say all the muscles tensing up, rendering the person immensely rigid. 
> 
> Now this is the effect of magic in Rowling's universe, but in a similar magically way in ours, muscles are stiffened and held still, but it could not possibly stop cells from changing and the body's inherent biology to be affected by the standstill. 
> 
> This would mean that a petrified person who does not receive magical medical care will die in time as organs shut down and the body can't keep up, not entirely unlike a person in the state of coma. 
> 
> The reason why people are terrified and broken up about someone being in this state, in our work, is because that they could take damage from it without proper medical attention, and it is always a risk towards them. There is no simple 'they will just wake up and everything is normal agan.' Luckily, it's easier to repeatedly restore magical victims than it is for Muggles to restore and keep people alive.
> 
> Of course, this does not stop a child being manipulated by Tom Riddle from thinking that people petrified will simply wake up and everything is fine, just like many children have naive beliefs that people in coma just wake up without any after effects.


	17. Chapter 16 - in which Moaning Myrtle talks about her death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I was sitting here, crying to myself, when I heard the voice of a boy. He was speaking some strange, made up language. So I opened this door to tell him to leave and when I did…” She paused for effect. “I died!” She giggled, looking over their faces. 

The next day was a Sunday, a day where most students would usually go outside or wander to Hogsmeade, spend the day in the library or simply spend time with their friends in group rooms or in their common room.

This Sunday was a suffocating one. Nobody was allowed to leave their common rooms, and were encouraged to stay in their dormitories where food was served to them by the castle House Elves. Some students left their own dormitories to gather in others, but the common room remained empty for most of the day. Which was just what Harry and Malfoy happened to need. 

It went against most of their instincts to speak to one another in such a big, open room, but they really did need to speak just the two of them. The rest of their friends seemed confused and even a little insulted that they needed to leave them to be allowed to speak freely, but Blaise reminded Crabbe and Goyle that sometimes people needed to talk alone and not in front of others. 

Harry grabbed his bag and followed his friend out of the dormitory, telling his friends that they would be back once they had properly talked a few things through. The other boys seemed suspicious over the fact that he had grabbed his bag, but chose not to comment. 

“Please be careful.” Goyle whispered as the door shut between them. 

Malfoy led Harry into a corner and turned around, about to address his friend yet Harry stopped him by holding up his hand. The boy frowned but waited as the son of a werewolf searched through his bag and pulled a cloak from it. 

“What is t- Lupin, is that an invisibility cloak?” Malfoy’s annoyance quickly turned into awe as he stared at the shimmering fabric of the cloak. 

Harry nodded. “It was given to me as a Holiday present last year. Dad has performed a lot of checks on it and it is completely fine. It used to belong to James Potter.” The boy with the green eyes kept his voice subtle, mumbling while glancing around. “I didn’t have any use for it until now. With this, we can sneak out and talk in peace. We shouldn’t go far, and if we hear anything, we hide and wait for the danger to pass.” 

“That is…” The blonde boy opened and shut his mouth. “It is not safe to leave the common room now… but… I know we shouldn’t and yet…”

“I feel the same.” Harry agreed. “This is our safest option.” He showed towards the cloak. “If we talk here, especially for longer, we risk giving out information to anyone who might listen.” He didn’t need to explain what he meant by that, they both knew the implication of what a listener might do with information they shouldn’t have. 

“Alright… Let us sneak out.” Malfoy looked down at the fabric, clenching his jaw with determination. 

Harry nodded before glancing around in the common room. They were all alone and hidden from view in a corner. He quickly moved the cloak over both of them, making them safe from any eyes which might otherwise find them. With Harry leading the way, they slowly exited the Slytherin common room, moving towards the closest group room at a slow pace. It was rather hot under the cloak, and a little hard to breathe. Harry held his wand in his hand as he carefully looked around the corners in the dungeons, leading Malfoy after him. They both tried hard to not step on each other or the fabric of the cloak. 

A noise caught Harry’s attention and he stopped dead in his tracks. Behind him, Malfoy bumped into him but then halted as well, silently listening alongside Harry. There was a big armor right next to them, which the green eyed boy pulled the other behind. They waited, both their hearts hammering painfully fast in their chests, and their breathing so hot under their cloak that small space under the fabric became damp. 

There was another noise. Much closer, just around the corner. Both of them held their breaths, trying not to look at whatever might be approaching. Then, around the corner, came Neville Longbottom. He was clutching something in one hand, while holding his wand in the other hand. The both of them were so indescribably relieved to see the boy rather than whatever nightmares their minds had produced for them, so much so that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. 

Neville spun around, his expression frightened and his wand raised high. “Who is there!” He whispered in a voice which was almost too loud to be a whisper. 

“It’s me, Harry. Me and Malfoy.” He pulled the cloak back over his head to reveal himself, almost causing Neville a heart attack with the way his head appeared out of nowhere. 

“Harry…?” He licked his lips and frowned, keeping his wand aimed at Harry’s head still. “I… if it really is you and Malfoy, tell me something only Harry would know.” He demanded as Malfoy slowly pulled the cloak from his face as well, giving the frightened boy two targets to try and aim at. 

“Uh…” Harry chewed on his lip. “You like raisin and chocolate chip cookies, you are really good at Herbology but not too good with other magic. We became friends after I stayed to talk to you after Herbology class. Last year, you accepted the position as king in a chess game which Malfoy played. You like hugs, Hermione doesn’t…” Harry began rambling a lot of things which he thought were things which weren’t that well known to other people. He wasn’t sure if it was enough but to Neville, it clearly was. He lowered his wand. 

“It is you. What are you doing here, is that an invisibility cloak?” Neville came over to them, still whispering. 

“What are you doing out here?” Malfoy countered, looking almost offended. “How did you get from the Gryffindor common room to here? And all alone, that is so very dangerous that I lack comprehension of where to begin.”

Neville shrugged. “I needed to get to you and nobody would hear me out. I was going to get to the Slytherin common room and speak with you.” 

“You wouldn’t have gotten in!” Malfoy whispered back. “You don’t know the password.” 

It dawned on the Gryffindor student then that he truly hadn’t thought of that. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, looking unsure and slightly ashamed. 

“We can talk about this in a safe place, Neville, come in under the cloak. We’re heading for a group room, it’s not safe out here.” Harry moved the cloak, urging the Gryffindor student to come in under it. 

The three boys shuffled their way under the warm cloak until they reached the closest group room. They entered it and shut the door behind them, all of them taking a few deep breaths before Neville turned towards the other two. 

“Hermione figured it out, look at this!” He held his hand up and gave Harry a ripped out page from a book. 

“Where did you get that?” Malfoy frowned at the page. 

Neville turned red as he avoided the boy’s eyes. “I… ripped it out from the book she had just borrowed from the library. I found it in her bag when I stayed with her yesterday and I guess I panicked and ripped it when they told me I had to leave. Her bookmark was resting on that page. It can be mended, right? With magic, I mean.” 

Malfoy sighed. “If you get it back before twenty four hours, I guess it could be repaired.” 

Neville winched in response. 

Harry unwrinkled it and read out loud, still trying to keep his voice subtle as to not alert anyone or anything about their presence in the group room. “‘Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. The Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.’"

Malfoy blinked. “That… that’s it. That must be it!” He agreed, leaning past Harry to look at the page which he was holding. “Slytherin, a snake. Only Harry can hear its voice, the roosters being killed… It all makes sense but…” He frowned. “How does it move around in the school? If it is that giant, how comes it hasn’t been able to kill more people, or at least been seen?” 

“I’ve been thinking about that too, and I can only think of one solution for it.” Neville frowned, chewing on his lower lip. “I don’t know if it makes any sense, but I’ve heard that the piping system at Hogwarts is really kind of huge, and old. Once, a snake got into the pipes at my home, and it was kind of scary… and a mess…” He trailed off. “Either way, it might be using the pipes to get around, which is why Harry heard it from all around him. It was coming from the floor, bouncing around in the pipes and corridors.” 

Harry and Malfoy stared at him, causing Neville to shrink together. “Uhm… maybe it was a bad id-”

“That’s brilliant, Neville!” Harry exclaimed. 

“Yes, it is, excellent deduction.” Malfoy smiled at the boy, their compliments causing him to turn red. 

“But if it is using the pipes to get around… and we were following the voice of a basilisk and ended up outside a flooded bathroom.” Harry slowly tried to organise his thoughts enough to formulate them into words. “Do you think that the basilisk came from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor? It couldn’t have appeared, attacked Mrs. Norris and then just disappeared out of thin air. It must have attacked her, then slid back into the pipes when it heard us coming.” 

“Then… what about the message on the wall?” Malfoy frowned. “When was that written? After the attack? That would leave her almost no time to write at all, we would have caught her red handed. With… actual blood on her hands.” He added the last when he remembered that the text had been written with blood. 

“Her?” Neville echoed, staring at the two Slytherin boys. “What do you mean her? What her?” Accusation slipped into his voice like poison and he stared at them with eyes who would not accept any excuses. 

Harry and Malfoy glanced at one another, the pale boy’s face looking both guilty and frightened. They remained silent for a little bit, until Neville demanded to know what they knew that he didn’t. 

“We… want to tell you but…” Harry carefully spoke up but he was interrupted by the Gryffindor student. 

“No buts, I have let you keep your secrets all this term. Me and Hermione knew you were hiding something but we both thought you’d tell us when you were comfortable enough, or when the time was right but I’ve had enough of being kept in the dark. Hermione was attacked, if you know something, I deserve to know it too!” Neville stared at them with eyes of fire and determination, neither of them had ever imagined that he could show such boldness. 

Malfoy recovered first, his face a complex canvas of emotions. “...We didn’t want to keep it hidden but…” He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued to speak again, this time, he told Neville the whole story. 

He spoke about the diary and where Harry had found it, he spoke of Dobby and how he had been trying to save Harry’s life through misguided means. He spoke of how he had recognised tha diary and about what had been written in it, how it connected back to his father’s collected artifacts. He told Neville what the diary had witnessed, about Tom Riddle’s manipulation which had created a new Heir of Slytherin. Finally, he explained how they had reached the conclusion that the Heir must be a Weasley, most likely the only female one to attend Hogwarts. After explaining everything, he quickly apologised, proceeding to inform Neville as to why they couldn’t share their secret and risk destroying the Malfoy family forever and label him a monster and target for the rest of his life. 

Neville was clearly upset to have been kept in the dark, rightfully so, yet when Malfoy apologised, without any long pauses or struggles, Neville’s eyes softened. “Do you still have the diary?” 

Harry pulled his bag off his shoulder and searched through it, having completely forgotten to do that until now. It surprised nobody when he raised his head and shook it, confirming that the diary had been stolen. 

“Alright…” Neville was clearly thinking, he was staring down at the ground with a deep frown wrinkling his forehead together. “I forgive you, but next time, I want you to inform me and Hermione about the situation. You don’t have to explain it, but I want you to make a conscious effort to at least let us know what you can’t talk about whatever it is, at that moment. We will not try to push you, but it is easier for everyone if we do acknowledge that a problem exists rather than dance around that it does.” 

Malfoy did something which surprised both Harry and Neville after the boy’s speech, he took a few steps forward and hugged the Gryffindor. Not too close, but not far away. He embraced him like a friend, clinging to his neck for a short few seconds, then pulled back again before Neville had the chance to hug him back. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled. 

“Y-yes.” Squeaked Neville. 

Harry grinned at them both before he once more turned serious. “As for your question, maybe the culprit didn’t get away. There were two big bathrooms right there, and the corridors became filled with people soon after. If it was, uh… The girl Weasley, she could have slipped inside one of the bathrooms and left later, or joined the crowd.” 

“That does make sense.” Malfoy agreed. 

“There is something I don’t understand though.” Neville grabbed the page from the book and stared down at it, licking his lips in a nervous gesture. Harry wasn’t sure if he was still overcoming the Malfoy hug or if he was just nervous in general. “Why has nobody, well… died yet? I’m happy nobody did, but… This snake kills people with its eyes. Just by looking at people… how come all the victims have been petrified and not, well…” He didn’t need to finish that sentence. 

Harry stared down at the ripped out page as well, frowning. “Maybe… it’s that they did not actually look it into the eyes?” He voiced his thoughts out loud. “Mrs. Norris must have seen it’s reflection in the water. Colin Creevry saw it through the camera.” The more he talked, the more sense his theory made. 

“Finch-Fletchley saw the snake through Nearly-Headless Nick.” Neville continued, looking excited to understand where Harry was going with his reasoning. “Nick is a ghost, he can’t die again so he was safe. I heard from Percy Weasley that Clearwater was holding a mirror when she and Hermione were found. Hermione must have urged that they look before walking around corners. They might have been petrified, but if they hadn’t, they would have been far worse off.” 

“Tom Riddle’s diary said that they wouldn’t need to kill anyone.” Malfoy nodded. “Then, it truly frightened the Heir when she almost killed someone despite what Riddle had promised. If it is as you say, that Granger and the other girl were looking through a mirror on purpose, and that Finch-Fletchley would be dead if the ghost hadn’t appeared, then it should be rather safe to assume one has to look directly into the basilisk’s eyes to die.” 

“I…” Harry stopped, frowning as he thought. So many things seemed to come back to that girl’s bathroom on the second floor. Outside of which was where the first attack had taken place and where he had been the closest to running into the monster. It was where the first message had been left as well. He had found the diary at that place.

“A girl was killed when the Chamber opened fifty years ago, Myrtle is the only young ghost of Hogwarts and she is always in the same place, that bathroom. Maybe… Maybe she is the victim from fifty years ago? Maybe she was even killed in that bathroom where she is always spending time? It’s pretty much the only place within Hogwarts where something like a basilisk could possibly enter, a bathroom where a ghost has chased everyone away. But most importantly, the basilisk could not have hidden anywhere else after having attacked Mrs. Norris.” 

Malfoy and Neville looked at him. Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, nodding slowly. “A lot of things do seem to come back to that bathroom for one reason or another.” 

“We could always go ask Myrtle if she is the girl who died all those years ago?” Neville suggested. 

“Right… now…?” Malfoy moved his hand over his mouth, seemingly close to start biting his nails. Harry, who knew of this bad habit of his, walked over and gently pulled his hand from his mouth. 

“It might not be a bad idea to do just that.” Harry agreed. “That basilisk is very talkative, I’m rather certain that I would hear it coming. Not to mention that it has never attacked twice over the span of two days. If we are really lucky, perhaps she managed to break away from Riddle once more and threw the diary away once more in that bathroom.” Harry shrugged as he pulled his bag back on. 

“I’m not so sure about that final part, but it could be very valuable information.” Malfoy agreed. 

“Valuable to who?” Neville asked. “What are we actually going to do with this information?”

Both Harry and Neville looked towards Malfoy, whose mouth had become a thin, determined line. “I want to see that bathroom first. If we actually find something out, I will make a choice then. If nothing else, we should report what Granger figured out about the monster to a teacher.” 

“Alright.” Harry smiled at him, not sure if he was proud of the other or uncertain if Malfoy’s choice was the right thing to do. It might just be better to honestly come forward with everything they knew, including Riddle’s diary and Lucius Malfoy’s probable involvement in this whole plot. 

  
  


They arrived at the girl’s bathroom on the second floor without too much trouble. It was hard to walk three people under one cloak, what was the hardest was not to fit under it, but how warm it got from their breathing. It was a relief to be able to pull the cloak off once they had shut the door behind them. Carefully, they looked around and listened for the ghost. They managed to locate a stall from which weak sobs could be heard. 

“Myrtle? Are you in there, may I speak to you?” Harry knocked and then gently spoke to her. 

The sobs halted. “Go away.” 

“I…” Harry looked towards Neville and Malfoy, who both tried to encourage him by gestures which Harry could not translate into anything meaningful. He searched for something to say but could only come up with one thing. “I’m sorry.” He blurted out. “I… I came to apologise for being mean to you.” 

The ghost’s head appeared through the door. She looked sad, angry and bothered all at once. “I… I was mean to you too. I think… I think maybe you could be right. A little bit.” She pouted. “Maybe I… will try and be nicer.” 

“That would be great.” Harry smiled at her, honestly relieved to have her acknowledge her mistakes too. 

Myrtle noticed Harry’s friend had pouted. “More boys? This is a girl’s bathroom.” 

“They convinced me to come and apologise to you.” Harry quickly lied. Malfoy and Neville both nodded, which seemed to make Myrtle happy. She came out from the stall, chuckling softly. 

“Alright, I will give you boys permission to be here, just because you are nice to me.” She floated upwards, chuckling to herself. 

“Would it be alright if we asked you a question, Ms. Myrtle?” Malfoy carefully asked. “I would address you properly, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.” 

“I like just Myrtle, and you can ask me anything.” She giggled, floating back down. “You’re a very handsome boy, handsome boys don’t usually talk to me. Why your voice is just like silk.” 

Harry and Neville glanced at one another, equally perplexed to find that Malfoy was being flirted with by a fifty year old ghost. 

“Just Myrtle then.” Malfoy smiled at her, having adapted a polite personality to please her. “I would like to know, how did you die? Do you remember how long ago it was?” 

Harry had been nervous about her becoming mad at the question but to his great surprise, her entire face lit up and she happily landed in front of Malfoy. “Oh it was terrible! Horrifying, really!” She floated through Malfoy and pointed at the booth which she had been crying in previously. “I was right here, I had been bullied like always. People have always been mean to me, I don’t know why…” She sighed, clearly fishing for some manner of sympathy. 

Malfoy nodded sympathetically, flawlessly doing what was expected of him. Neville and Harry nodded as well, looking like two bobblehead dolls compared to the blonde wizard’s smooth movements. 

“People truly do look for the weak to hide their own weaknesses.” Malfoy agreed with her. “Despicable, really.” 

“Really.” Echoed Harry and Neville, knowing well that Malfoy had been very likely to have ended up like the people he now scorned, had he not become friends with Harry and the rest of his friend groups. 

Myrtle’s eyes seemed to shine up in delight at Malfoy’s words, “truly, people are horrible.”  
“So I was sitting here, crying to myself, when I heard the voice of a boy. He was speaking some strange, made up language. So I opened this door to tell him to leave and when I did…” She paused for effect. “I died!” She giggled, looking over their faces. 

“You just… died?” Neville asked in a careful tone of voice. “Did you see any, uh… big snakes before that?” 

She looked very confused over his question but then shook her head. “No. No snakes. But I did see a big yellow eye right there. Over by that sink.” She pointed behind them towards the group of sinks. “It doesn’t work though. It has never worked.” As she complained about it not working, she pouted. It seemed likely that she had noticed it’s lack of function as she had continuously flooded the bathroom over her years as a ghost. 

Harry walked over towards the pillar of sinks, reaching out to try and start the faucet. Nothing happened, just like Myrtle had said. Behind him, Neville came to help him look, while Malfoy was more or less captured in another conversation by the ghost who was starved for positive attention. 

“There is a snake carved into the handle.” The Gryffindor noticed. Harry leaned over to see where the other was pointing. On Neville’s side of the faucet was indeed a snake. “Try saying something in snake, Harry.” The other boy encouraged him. 

“It’s called Parseltongue.” Harry had to keep himself from laughing. It was a very welcomed impulse, he was thankful towards Neville for making him a little less tense. “I will try, stand back.” 

Neville did as he was told. Harry took a step back as well, before addressing the sink. He couldn’t help but feel quite stupid as he did. 

“Uh… open, please.” He looked towards Neville, who shook his head. 

“That was English.” 

Harry stared at the faucet, trying to visualise a snake in front of him. “Please open?” 

The Gryffindor shook his head again. 

“Chamber of Secrets, reveal yourself.” Another attempt, causing Neville to once more shake his head. “Gn!” Harry voiced his displeasure out loud. 

Malfoy heard him and excused himself from the ghost, walking over to his friends. “What is happening?” 

“I’m having trouble speaking Parseltongue.” Harry explained with a frustrated look on his face. 

“Ah… of course.” He was silent for a few seconds but then looked up as an idea brightened his face. “I’ll get you someone to talk to.” He pulled his wand out before they could either object or agree. “Serpensortia.” 

Malfoy raised his wand and lowered it, a snake sprung from the tip of his wand, landing on the floor before him. Myrle screamed and dived into one of the toilets, disappearing out of sight. The snake slowly lifted its head, looking around in the bathroom before turning towards the three boys. Neville whimpered and took a step back behind Harry, while the other two boys’ faces lit up with excitement. 

“It’s our snake!” Malfoy turned towards Harry, who beamed back at him. Last they had seen of her was when they set her free in the Forbidden Forest, after much complaining on her part. She nodded at them before slowly coming over, trying to slither up Harry’s leg. He bent down to pick her up, smiling at her. 

_“Hello.”_

“Hello.” Harry responded. 

As he did, there was a loud scraping noise behind them. The three boys spun around, the top of the sink pillar was slowly lifted up in the air by some manner of magic, then, the sink with the snake on it slowly slid outwards and began to sink into the floor, revealing a small entrance into the pillar. Harry carefully walked over towards the opening but Malfoy stopped him. 

“The monster might be there… if you are going to look, use this…” He dug through his pockets and produced a hand mirror which he handed to his friend. “At least then you won’t be… you will only be petrified if it is actually… there.” It was hard for him to speak of what might happen to Harry should he spot the monster’s eyes by glancing down into what they assumed to be a pipe. 

“Thank you… Good thinking.” Harry smiled at him as he accepted the mirror. 

He approached the opening carefully, using the mirror to glance into the dark of the pillar. Just as he had suspected, there was a huge pipe inside of it, leading down into darkness. He saw nothing move, and saw no signs of big yellow eyes. 

In his free hand, the little snake spoke. _“What are you frightened by? I can smell your fear.”_

“There is a basilisk hiding somewhere in the school, or under it. I don’t really want to meet it.” Harry spoke back. 

_“If you let me stay with you, I can protect you from it.”_ The little snake slid into his bag as she spoke. _“There are no other snakes here but me, you can rest easy.”_

“I don’t think there is a lot you can do but… I suppose you can stay for now.” He allowed her to rest in his sleeve as he turned back to his friends. “We… found it. We found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.” He had expected the announcement to be triumphant or in some manner positive, but he felt more of an overwhelming sense of regret and fear as he said it. They had found the entrance, but what would happen now?

The three boys looked at one another, none of them speaking. They all knew what they should do but it seemed that they all hesitated for Malfoy’s sake. 

“We have to tell someone.” The one to finally speak up was Neville. “I understand why you are hesitant, but this is bigger than us. We can save the school from that madman Slytherin and his Heir, we can make the school safe for all Muggle-borns for all time. You have no right to say that your father is more important than the safety of the students which are being plotted against.” The last words were harsh, but true. 

Harry bit his lower lip, nodding as well. “He is… right. We have to tell someone.” 

Malfoy hesitated for a long time before speaking up in a small voice. “Yes. We have to tell Professor Dumbledore. He kept Hagrid safe even after he was expelled from Hogwarts for being the supposed Heir of Slytherin, if anyone can deal with this whole scenario without it harming my family beyond repair, it would be the Headmaster.” It was clear that it hurt him to betray his father like this, but it was also clear that he knew the fact that it was the right thing to do. 

Harry reached out and took his hand, squeezing it while smiling at his friend. “You know that it is what should be done. Thank you, I… I will feel so much better when we have actually confided in an adult who can help us.” 

Malfoy smiled back, a shaking, dishonest smile but a smile nonetheless. Despite the decision being hard on him, it seemed as if he was feeling just a little better after making it, a little less burdened by the weight of his father’s crimes. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll talk to him after breakfast tomorrow.” The son of a werewolf decided. 

The other two boys nodded. 

“Tomorrow.” Malfoy echoed. 


	18. Chapter 17 - In which Missy the snake goes on an adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lockhart spun around towards them, his face so pale that it seemed as if a shade lighter would make him transparent like a ghost. “A basilisk! No, no, I can’t fight a basilisk, are you out of your mind?” He was becoming hysterical, his voice continuously raising higher, echoing around the bathroom and likely down in the hole behind him. “I’m just an author, don’t ask these things of me!” 

The night had been harsh on Malfoy. He had tossed and turned, unable to sleep until Harry came over and silently slid down next to him under the sheets. The blonde wizard had lay still for a while but then turned and tried very hard to cry silently against Harry’s chest. If he woke any of the other boys in the dormitory, none said anything or complained. They simply let Malfoy be, knowingly or unknowingly entrusting him to Harry. 

They all walked to breakfast with heavy hearts that morning. Harry brought his bag with him to the morning gathering, he had stuffed his invisibility cloak into it, in case they needed to sneak their way to Professor Dumbledore’s office after breakfast. Normally, he would not bring his bag at all but get it afterwards alongside his books, yet today, books were not very highly prioritised in his mind. 

The Slytherin House arrived at the Great Hall, accompanied and led by Professor Snape. They and the Hufflepuff students were the first to arrive, followed by Ravenclaw and Gryffindor at last. When the Gryffindor students arrived, Neville broke from the group and approached the Slytherin table. Looking like a man on a mission, he carefully nodded towards the space between Blaise and Malfoy and was immediately let in to sit there. Harry didn’t even manage to greet him before someone complained about Neville’s presence, whereas both Crabbe and Goyle silently threatened to break the person’s bones to make them stop. 

“Hi.” Harry said, nodding at the boy. 

“Welcome to the Slytherin table, where all the impressive people sit.” Nott grinned, giving Neville and wink. The Gryffindor boy curled together slightly but seemed happy to be greeted. 

“It’s just a table, don’t flatter yourself.” Blaise sighed, causing Nott to stick his tongue out in a mischievous gesture. 

Nobody asked why Neville had decided to join them, everyone knew that without Hermione Granger, the boy truly didn’t have any friends worth spending time around in his own House. 

The food appeared on the plates in front of them. What usually signalled the beginning of a happy morning feast seemed to only carry weak whispers that day. People were talking, the Great Hall was filled with noise, yet all of it seemed distant somehow. Almost as if it was disingenuous. 

By the end of breakfast, Albus Dumbledore stood up. Harry felt as if everyone had been waiting for it, collectively holding their breath for the Headmaster to speak. He didn’t need to call for silence, it fell over the Great Hall like a blanket of snow, cold and dampening rather than warm and soothing. 

“My dear students, I have grave news. This Saturday, two more students were attacked and petrified. One other student has gone missing, despite our best efforts, we have not been able to locate them. According to a message left by the likely perpetrator, the victim has been taken to the Chamber of Secrets. The Ministry have been informed and Aurors have been dispatched to aid in the search and rescue of the kidnapped student. These attacks have been blamed on a treasured member of the staff here at Hogwarts, namely Rubeus Hagrid.” Whispers passed through the crowd at the mention of the gamekeeper. Both Crabbe and Goyle looked distressed as they heard his name, holding their breaths as they feared what might come next. “Hagrid has been sent to Azkaban Prison by order of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Yet the Minister has promised that Hagrid will be kept safe and out of harm's way, so that he may return to us here at Hogwarts once his name has been cleared.” 

Crabbe was stubbornly glaring down at his plate, while Goyle’s eyes had become puffy and watery with emotion. Neither said anything, yet their bodies silently expressed their pain. 

“By order of the Board of Governors, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be shut down…” His words were interrupted by a loud explosion of sound as the students protested and agreed all around the hall. The Headmaster had to enhance his voice for the sake of quieting them down once more. 

“Silence, please! The school will shut down effectively after this week, where you will have the time to complete some of your exams before you are sent home. Hogwarts will be searched through during the summer, and it is the hope of the Board and the Ministry that you shall all be able to return by next term. Albeit if you continue school or to complete your education and enter into the adult world.” 

“I, however, will not be returning as Headmaster next year, whether or not the school reopens.” This time, a shocked silence fell over the Great Hall. It was as if the words which had just been uttered had stunned the entirety of the school into silence. The old man continued. “I will be retiring, as it is the belief and decision by the Board of Governors that I am no longer deserving of my position as your Headmaster. I have not been able to put a stop to the attacks, or have I been able to help those who have been petrified by any other means than waiting. For my failures as your protector and guide, I apologise to each and every one of you.” The old wizard carefully bowed his head to his students. 

Around him, Harry could see how people seemed both stunned as well as humbled, placing their hands over their mouths, shaking their heads or actually crying. There were a lot of reactions around him, yet Harry wasn’t sure if any of them mimicked his own feelings or if all of them did. He felt cold inside, terrified. He felt as if a hole had opened up in his stomach, eating his insides and leaving him feeling ill. The Headmaster was leaving and with him the only chance to stop Malfoy’s father without irreparably damaging the wife and son. 

“I will be departing Hogwarts today and I thank you all for my many years in this position. Before I leave, I have one last thing to remind you of. If anybody at Hogwarts requires help, it will always be available to those who ask for it.” With that, he bowed once more. “Finally, Professor Lockhart has offered to personally assist the Aurors with their work. He will begin searching immediately after this breakfast has been concluded.” 

Lockhart stood up to receive an applause. He was smiling and waving but Harry could see that his face was shiny with sweat. The man did his best to keep up appearances, yet more people than Harry could tell that he was more than nervous.

The teachers responsible for the various Houses began gathering their students to try and take them back to their respective common rooms. Harry tried to stretch his neck to see if he could spot the Weasleys but he was but a short twelve year old whose vision was clouded by the group of people who were currently making their way to the door. 

Harry decided that they needed to get to Professor Dumbledore, rather than just moving forward, Harry grabbed Malfoy’s and Neville’s hands, pulling them close to himself so that he could whisper to them. “We’re going to break away at the first chance and try to get back to the Headmaster, or hurry towards his office.” 

“But I’m not a Slytherin…!” Neville whispered back, clearly nervous about the fact that he was being pulled along with the Slytherin House. 

“It’s fine, you’ll get to your House later.” Malfoy groaned, he likely didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but he did. 

They managed to make their way to the back of the group, most people seemed to very much not want to become the potential target in straggling behind the group, making it comparatively easy to make it to the end of the line. When the rest of the group turned around a corner, Harry pulled his friends to a halt. It was surprisingly easy to get away from the rest of the Slytherin House, but they didn’t have time to celebrate their victory as they instead turned and ran back along the halls in the dungeon. 

They reached the Great Hall rather quickly but found that nobody was there. They decided to take the path past the second floor to reach the Headmaster’s Tower, it would take them past the bathrooms on the second floor but Harry was confident that he would hear the basilisk should it come from the Chamber of Secrets. It was the fastest way, and in their panic, they felt as if it was their only chance to get to the Headmaster before he left the school forever. Harry was vaguely aware that it might have been a far better choice to hide under the invisibility cloak to avoid being seen by anyone, but they couldn’t run under it. It might have been possible had he been alone, but not with three people. 

The three boys ran up the stairs and past the Girls’ bathroom, about to turn the corner when Harry more or less crashed into a person who came the other way. Both of them yelled and jumped back, whereas Harry recognised Lockhart and Lockhart recognised Harry. The man seemed beyond stressed, he was holding a big bag in his hand, his clothes were ruffled and out of place, and his face shone with sweat. 

“Oh! Students, hah, why I thought…” The man laughed in a false way before straightening up, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “Whatever are you doing here? You are supposed to be in your common rooms.”

“We have to see Professor Dumbledore.” Malfoy explained, he was the one who was the least out of breath, seeing as he was the only athlete of their friend group. Flying on a broom might be different from a physical sport like running, but that did not mean that he wasn’t working out on his free time to become a better Quidditch player. Besides, defying gravity on a broom was by no means easy, and did count as physically challenging. 

“Why, didn’t you hear, he is already far away.” Lockhart pushed past them with his bag. 

Neville stared at him. “You… you are running away.” 

Lockhart came to a halt and spun back towards their suspicious faces who stared back at him. “Me? Running away? No, no, I would never!” He shook his head furiously. “I’m the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, I’m Gilderoy Lockhart for Merlin’s sake. No, I am off to find the Chamber and save the one who was kidnapped by the monster!” 

“You are? You can save her?” Malfoy looked skeptical, crossing his arms over his chest while leaning on his hip. Harry got the impression that he might be mimicking his mother’s stance of disapproval. 

Neither Harry, Malfoy nor Neville had communicated to one another that they all suspected the kidnapped victim to be Ginny Weasley, the girl who was most likely the Heir of Slytherin. They knew that Riddle had used her and pushed her and that she had resisted. Yet the diary had been stolen from Harry and now two more people had been attacked and one disappeared. It only stood to reason that the most likely victim of such a kidnapping plot would be the girl who Riddle had already possessed at least once. It seemed to be the most simple way to kidnap someone. As there was only one victim, it didn’t seem likely that a possessed Weasley had dragged one more person into the Chamber. Had there been another victim than the Heir herself, there would be two people missing.

“Why of course!” The more nervous the man was getting, the louder he was screaming. “I can save anyone as long as they aren’t dead.” Harry’s arm throbbed with the memory of having to regrow his bones and reconnect the nerves. 

“Good, we know where the Chamber of Secrets is, you are standing right outside of it.” Harry pointed towards the girls’ bathroom. 

The Defense against the Dark Arts Professor spun around, staring at the empty wall in front of him. The message had long since been washed away. “...This? Why, this is the wall where the messages were left! Nothing but an ordinary wall, I have examined it myself many times.” 

“Messages? Was there more than one?” Harry quickly bit down on the new information, demanding answers from the man. 

The man whimpered, curling together. “Messages? Did I say messages? I mean message, haha… hahaha… ha!” 

Harry nearly pulled his wand out but thought better than to threaten a teacher. “What. Messages.” He spoke to the man in the same tone of voice which he had used when Dobby wasn’t listening to him. 

“Oh I can’t remember exactly, something about a body resting in the Chamber for all time!” The man’s anxiety got the best of him as he whimpered out a summary of the message. “It was terribly direct, signalling murder or another… That poor student is probably dead already, did you say it was a girl? Terrible, truly.”

Harry bit his lower lip, thinking things over. Lockhart wasn’t the strong, capable, fearless hero who he had built himself up to be in his books. However, he was not an useless mage, and not a worthless teacher. Many of his stories were clearly faulty, but his teachings had been competent enough as he followed the curriculum. There were things missing, and the education could be far better, and yet… They couldn’t get to Professor Dumbledore and a girl was dying in the Chamber of Secrets which they knew the location of. Lockhart had been tasked to find the Chamber and here he was, right outside of it.

Harry made a choice.

He stepped forward and grabbed the man’s arm, pulling him along into the girls’ bathroom. The Professor objected but came along willingly. The bathroom was all but empty, almost eerily so. There was no sound of Moaning Myrtle’s crying, which had become so very connected to the bathroom for Harry that without it, he felt stressed. Like something was missing. 

“This is the ladies' bathroom… Men should not be invading such a space.” Lockhart mumbled behind Harry. 

“This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.” Harry turned towards the man and pointed at the sink pillar. Behind Lockhart, he could see Malfoy and Neville enter the bathroom as well. 

“My boy… That is a sink.” The Defense against the Dark Arts teacher laughed his false laugh again. 

Harry took a deep breath before he turned back towards the sink pillar. He pulled his wand out of its assigned pocket in case the basilisk was closer this time than it had been the last. He hesitated, trying hard to visualise a snake in front of him before he remembered that their friendly snake was still sleeping in his bag. Malfoy had named her Missy, but Harry had tried very hard to not use that name or think of her as such. Naming something led to attachment, it had already been hard enough to say goodbye to her as it was. Yet Harry had a feeling that Missy was not about to leave anytime soon, especially not after seeing Malfoy’s reaction to having her back. 

He turned towards his bag and carefully whispered towards it. “Missy? Missy, wake up.” 

The loud scraping noise and Lockhart’s gasp made it clear that he had spoken in Parseltongue rather than English. Harry looked up, watching as the sink right in front of him sank down into the ground, revealing the dark entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. 

Out of Harry’s bag came a sleepy snake head. She hissed subtly at the world, tasting the air around her before glancing up at Harry. _“What? I sense no other snakes than me, is that what you wanted to ask?”_ She sounded rather annoyed to have been woken up, but then again, she always did. 

“Would you be able to tell if the basilisk is approaching?” Harry blinked down at her, not having realised that he had a very handy tool for warning him about the monster in his bag. 

_“Of course.”_

“Then would you inform us if you sense it coming? Even if it is through a wall, no matter what, just… please tell me.” Harry begged her, to which she nodded. 

_“Fine, but only if I get to stay. I don’t like the outdoors, I’d much rather stay in here.”_

“I think Malfoy will be happy to adopt you.” The boy smiled at the snake, who slid back into the bag with a satisfied look on her face. 

“I… I do say…” Lockhart walked over towards the entrance and stared down into the darkness, holding on to the sinks on the sides of him so as to not fall into the pipe. “This is… how did you manage to find it…?” 

“Professor, if you are going down there, you should use a mirror to look around you.” Malfoy explained, already searching for his own hand mirror to hand to the man. “The monster is a basilisk, it kills by looking you directly into the eyes. With a reflective surface, it will only petrify you.” 

Lockhart spun around towards them, his face so pale that it seemed as if a shade lighter would make him transparent like a ghost. “A basilisk! No, no, I can’t fight a basilisk, are you out of your mind?” He was becoming hysterical, his voice continuously raising higher, echoing around the bathroom and likely down in the hole behind him. “I’m just an author, don’t ask these things of me!” 

“But… Your books say-” Neville didn’t get to finish what he was saying as the Professor pointed accusingly at him and then yelled. 

“My books are books! I didn’t do all those things. I’m talented in the art of Memory Charms, I found these people and had them tell me of all their deeds and then I made certain that they couldn’t remember ever doing them!”

The boys stared in silence at their teacher, who only seemed to realise his confession after he had made it. He stared back at them, looking every bit like a child who had been caught lying. 

“You… you lied?” Neville was the first one to speak up. It was a childish comment, the disbelief of a person who trusted someone only to find out that they had no idea what to do. “For an entire year, you have lied about everything? Your teaching has all been… your books… lies?” 

Harry felt a sense of triumph and disbelief. He had never believed Lockhart to be as capable as his books said. To reveal him as a liar and a fraud was satisfying, but it was so unbelievable to think that a fraud had been allowed to teach at Hogwarts for close to a year that Harry’s mind rejected it. Malfoy looked in between furious and hurt, mostly hurt. 

The man stared at them, opening and shutting his mouth as he struggled to think of something to say. “M-my boy, nobody could do all, even if they had a lifetime… Of course it’s not entirely, I mean… It’s not…” He stopped speaking before he made a sudden movement, dropping his bag and reaching for his wand. 

Harry saw the desperation and madness in his eyes, the kind of look a person with their back against the wall might pull upon lashing out at their attacker. Harry reacted by instinct, reacted as his dad had taught him if he knew that somebody was about to cause him harm. As Lockhart pulled his wand out, Harry pointed his at the man first. 

“Expelliarmus!” 

Lockhart’s arm was jerked back as the wand flew out of his hand, the man stumbled backwards, only there was no footing behind him. It all happened very fast, the man was standing before them one second, in the next, his body disappeared into darkness as he fell into the pipe, his yell disappearing further and further as he likely slid down a very deep pipe. 

“Oh my Merlin…” Harry whispered, still in disbelief over what had just happened. 

Neville hurried over to the entrance and yelled down into the darkness. “Professor? Professor! Can you hear me?” There was no answer. Neville looked back to his friends. “He… doesn’t have his wand. There is a basilisk down there… I… What do we do? He might have hit his head and is bleeding or… or something like that.” 

“We just… pushed our Defense against the Dark Arts teacher into the Chamber of Secrets…” Malfoy stared at the sink pillar, licking his lips nervously. 

“I pushed him down.” Harry corrected the boy, looking equally if not more stressed than the blonde wizard. “That was my fault.” 

“He was about to attack us, Harry.” Neville objected. “You saved us and you didn’t mean to push him. This isn’t your fault.” He glanced back at the hole. “Is… do we… follow him? Ginny Weasley must be down there with him, and he has no wand…”

Harry took a deep, shaking breath. “Missy, uh, the snake here, says that she can sense the basilisk. She will warn me if it approaches, so we should be able to go down there, help him and maybe…” He hesitated. “Maybe even save that girl.” 

They looked over at one another, all of them hesitant. 

“We’ve… done this before.” Malfoy hesitantly spoke up. “We didn’t get help but jumped head first into danger, should we really be so foolish to do it again?” He had started playing with the skin next to his nails again, it was a small gesture of stress, one which would lead to the boy slowly breaking said skin. Harry had seen it happen many times over this year. 

“Malfoy, nails.” He urged his friend to stop. “I know we shouldn’t, it’s not the right thing to do, but we are risking two people’s lives by hesitating. Lockhart might be bleeding, Weasley’s life might be slipping out of our hands as we speak. I can’t just let them both die because we were too scared. I have Missy, I’m going down there and then I will call back up to you.” 

Malfoy’s eyes turned sharp. “I’m not letting you go alone.” 

“I’m coming with you too.” Neville spoke up. “Hermione has taught me Muggle healing, if Lockhart is hurt, I might be able to help him.” 

Harry took a deep breath and walked over to the entrance of the pipe, he put his wand in his bag and held the bag to his chest before he stepped down into the hole. He didn’t see the other boys follow him but he could hear them behind him. He closed his eyes tightly, holding on to the bag tightly, as it was the only thing he knew for certain was real as the darkness swallowed him. 

The pipe was long and winding. It seemed to be made out of stone but was comparatively smooth and didn’t rip their clothes up. Harry slid out of the pipe, landing in a small pile of animal bones. He quickly scurried to the side as Malfoy and Neville came sliding out of the pipe as well. The two other boys got to their feet as well, finding themselves standing in a large tunnel which seemed to be carved out of stone. On the walls were faintly luminescent mushrooms, allowing them to see without the use of light from their wands. 

Lockhart was standing a little away from them, nervously wringing his hands in front of him. “Oh what have you done? There is no way out but up!” He pointed towards the pipe from which they had all come. “You… You idiot children, this is… this is awful… This is bad… There is a basilisk here?” As he muttered to himself, he seemed to have a realisation. His head snapped at them. “I see… It all makes sense now… You are the Heir of Slytherin! All of you. You saw me as your biggest threat and you tricked me here to trap and kill me!” 

Neville blinked at him, pointing at himself. “You think I’m the Heir too? I can barely cast spells…” 

The man looked a tad uncertain as Neville pointed out the flaw of his argument. “I… Maybe not you, but those two. Just as the school suspected, you really were guilty. I had a bad feeling about you ever since I met you, Lupin. You might be famous but I could tell that you were biding your time, an even stronger Dark Wizard than He-who-must-not-be-mentioned…” His sentences ended up less and less connected, leading Harry to ignore him. He could be accused of being evil later, they had other things which needed to be done first. 

“Lumos.” Harry picked his wand up from his bag and spoke the spell, letting the tip of his wand add to the light of the fungi. “Missy, any other snakes close by?” 

_“No.”_ Came the answer from the bag. 

“Missy says that it’s safe.” Harry was blatantly ignoring Lockhart's rambling as he carefully took a few steps away from the pipe, peering into the tunnel to see how far it went. He could see other old pipe structures alongside the walls, making for perfect hiding spots for a large snake. He was endlessly thankful for the snake in his bag and her ability to sense other snakes. 

He walked a little further down the tunnel, just enough to spread the light further. Said light fell on what Harry had assumed to be a curious formation shaped out of rocks, which quickly was revealed to be something else. For a second, Harry thought that Missy had been mistaken and that he was standing by the end of the basilisk’s body, but then he realised what he was actually looking at. The shed skin of the serpent lay before him, discarded by the monster in the same manner a person might discard a used tissue. 

“Lupin, what… what is that?” Malfoy called as he noticed Harry getting down on his knees. 

“It’s some shed skin of the basilisk.” Harry called back. He carefully touched it, it felt like touching stone, cold, hard and unyielding. He pulled his hand back with a shudder. “It’s so large… so very… I knew it would be big but this… this is huge…” The boy mumbled, uncertain if anyone heard him.

“So we can’t get up again?” Neville addressed Lockhart, who seemed to have calmed down somewhat when he was so blatantly ignored. 

“Not without magic, and I don’t have a wand. Why don’t you all light your wands to allow us to see better, maybe there is a ladder I missed?” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest with a pouty look on his face. “Did you bring my wand?”

Neville looked embarrassed. “No… uh, we forgot.” 

Lockhart groaned, he had gone from acting like an adult to behaving more like a teenager. It was rather unsettling to observe. “Wonderful. Then add some more light at least.” 

Neville and Malfoy looked at one another before slowly doing what the man suggested. As Neville pulled his wand out and tried to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lockhart leaped forward and wrestled the wand from the boy. He pointed at Malfoy, who had barely managed to pull his wand out, and yelled “Expelliarmus!” Malfoy gasped with surprise as his wand flew out of his hand. 

Harry turned but was met with Lockhart pointing Neville’s wand at him. “No tricks, Lupin! Just keep that wand lit and don’t do anything funny…!” That madness and desperation was back in the man’s eyes, alongside a twisted, triumphant smile. “I did it… I found the Chamber of Secrets, just as I said I would. I will take a piece of that skin and claim it to be from the body of the defeated beast, sadly, I was too late to save the girl…” He seemed to be making his story up, speaking it out loud as he did, his eyes frantically moving back and forth as he tried to puzzle the pieces together into a believable story. 

“Malfoy will be blamed for this all, claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin, yes…” He pointed towards the blonde boy who looked shocked and hurt over the accusation. “Lupin was an accomplice… Longbottom tried to help the poor girl from his House but went insane when seeing her broken body. As for the two Heirs of Slytherin…” Lockhart pointed his wand at Malfoy once again. “I had to stop them as they set their monster on me… I hate to do this to you boys but for the sake of my future…” He pointed his wand at Malfoy, taking a step forward as he did. Malfoy in turn took a step back, his face twisting with fear as he realised what Lockhart was about to do. 

“Obli-” 

Lockhart managed to pronounce the first part of the spell but before he had the chance to finish casting it, Neville punched him.

The man had forgotten about the talentless wizard whose wand he had stolen. He had deemed the boy so little of a danger that he had turned his side to him. The Gryffindor had balled his fist and punched the man, managing to hit him right as the man tried to take another step. The impact caused the author to slip on the small animal bones, sending him crashing into the ground. He hit his head against something and became still. 

“Oh no… no, no, no…” Neville hurriedly got to his knees and pressed two fingers against the man’s neck, then leaned in to listen for his breathing and heartbeat. When he sat up, he looked relieved. “Just passed out. He probably won’t be going anywhere anytime soon but… at least he is alright. Sort of. I mean he's very badly off, one doesn't just get knocked out without getting hurt but uh-... He'll be fine when he gets help.” 

“You just… you just punched a teacher…” Malfoy’s jaw had dropped, he was still staring at the Gryffindor student. 

Neville blushed. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do! He was about to obliviate you!” The boy whimpered. 

“Thank you.” Malfoy’s breathless voice was little more than a whisper. 

“Are you alright?” Harry hurried over to his best friend and hugged him. He wasn’t sure if he was the one who needed a hug or if he was doing it for the other’s sake but he was more than thankful for the other boy hugging back. Malfoy nodded. “Thank you for saving us, Neville.” Harry turned towards the other boy who smiled weakly at them. 

“Professor Lockhart can’t move and we can’t leave him here.” The Gryffindor student reasoned, looking around them once more as he thought. “I…” He hesitated. “You are going to continue, aren’t you?” He looked Harry in the eyes. 

Harry nodded, there was no need for words, there was no need for explanations. 

“I will stay with him then.” Neville spoke the words as if they were physically heavy and therefore hard to speak. “I’m not a competent wizard and all that, I… Don’t need to explain myself.” He became quiet again, staring back at the pipe. “I will try to get help, maybe I can get the attention of Myrtle. If… if the basilisk comes, I will hide with Lockhart and try to keep him safe.” Neville looked up at the two Slytherin students. “Please be careful.” 

“We will try.” Harry’s words didn’t really calm anyone down, yet there was no time to be calmed. They had to continue, time was likely running out for Ginny Weasley. Harry had the suffocating feeling that time was running out and that they needed to hurry. 

Malfoy found his wand before walking up to Harry and nodded at him. They took each other’s hands and began to slowly walk down the tunnel with Harry lighting the way and Malfoy keeping his wand ready in case something moved. They continued in silence, both on painfully high alert with their hearts beating fast and painfully in their throats. 

The tunnel was long and curved, it felt to Harry as if the basilisk would lay waiting for them with every turn but the tunnel remained empty while Missy remained silent. They listened and kept on using the snake to judge of the basilisk would actually be around the corners before they passed. They could no longer see Neville and hadn’t been able to for a long time when the light from Harry’s wand fell on the end of the tunnel. In front of them rose a stone wall, which had been engraved with detailed snakes on it. There was no doubt in both their minds that this was the real entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. 

Malfoy squeezed Harry’s hand tighter and then let go. “Can you open it?” 

The son of a werewolf nodded. “I think so.” He took a deep breath and carefully whispered “open.” To his great surprise, the wall slowly parted, allowing them both entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had not expected to be capable of speaking Parseltongue without addressing Missy. The fact that he had managed both thrilled and frightened him. 

By his side, Malfoy took a shaky breath. “I’m with you.” He whispered. 

“And I’m with you.” Harry responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Muggle healing**  
>  When Neville refers to 'Muggle healing' he is literally just talking about First Aid, CPR and the similar such as knowing how to stop bleeding or what position to keep a passed out body in.  
> 
> 
> **Missy's ability to sense snakes**  
>  It's just vibrations. Snakes sense vibrations and know when something is coming, and the vibrations from a snake's body moving and slithering is different than that of something with footsteps. It's even clearer with basilisks due to their size.


	19. Chapter 18 - In which the Heir of Slytherin commands his basilisk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Malfoy found themselves standing at the end of a long, dimly-lit, giant hall. It was far larger than anything Harry had expected. By the other end of it stood a large statue of Salazar Slytherin, Harry had seen paintings of the man many times, it was not hard to recognise him. The statue seemed to be looking out over the hall, silently guarding it with a stern and watchful eye. By the foot of the statue stood a person, facing towards it. The body was small, that of a child just like Harry and Malfoy. 

Harry and Malfoy found themselves standing at the end of a long, dimly-lit, giant hall. It was far larger than anything Harry had expected. By the other end of it stood a large statue of Salazar Slytherin, Harry had seen paintings of the man many times, it was not hard to recognise him. The statue seemed to be looking out over the hall, silently guarding it with a stern and watchful eye. By the foot of the statue stood a person, facing towards it. The body was small, that of a child just like Harry and Malfoy. 

The two boys hesitated but then slowly began walking towards the other end of the hall, both their wands raised. The closer they came, the more they could make out the shape of the person. It was a Hogwarts student, dressed in their robes but the hair was too short for the person to be Ginny Weasley. When they came ever closer, they could tell that the hair was red, the very same red which all the Weasley siblings shared. 

“Are you… are you Ronald Weasley?” Malfoy’s voice was little more than a whisper as he addressed the supposed Heir of Slytherin, yet the acoustics of the Chamber made his voice as clear as day. They were close enough to only be standing a few meters from the person who they both identified as the Heir of Slytherin. 

The boy turned, revealing the freckled face and complexion of Ron Weasley but the expression on his face was one so far from that of the boy’s normal ones that it was hard to recognise him. He looked calm, patient and slightly amused. Yet there was no denying that it was the boy in question. 

“Hello.” Weasley’s mouth spoke. His voice sounded the same as always but every tone was different, every syllable pronounced clearly and with authority. It only added to the bizarre image of looking at someone they should find familiar but didn’t. “Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, I’m impressed that you found it without help.” The boy swept out with his arm, his movement like that of a dancer’s, he had complete, perfect control over every muscle. 

“Who… are you?” Malfoy would normally have sounded demanding when he asked such a question but instead of his normal authority, all he could do was to carefully ask for an answer. 

Harry looked to the ground to confirm his suspicions. Weasley was standing in the middle of a complex magic circle, one which had clearly taken a lot of effort and knowledge to draw. It was not something a twelve year old could paint from memory. The son of a werewolf swallowed, he might not know exactly what the circle was meant for, but he knew ritual magic when he saw it. Further glancing at the red haired boy’s hand confirmed that he had cut his fingertips, thus likely using his own blood for the ritual. Between the boy’s legs laid Tom Riddle’s open diary, it seemed to be shining vaguely with some type of magic.

“You… are Riddle, aren’t you?” Harry tried to speak but his voice was also but a whisper. “You have possessed him, just like you did that time when he couldn’t remember attacking Finch-Fletchley.” 

Weasley’s face looked slightly impressed but then twisted into a mocking expression. He brought his hands up and slowly clapped, the sound echoing around the Chamber of Secrets, making the noise add up as if far more people were applauding him. “Clever boy, Potter.” Harry shuddered at the name, he truly didn’t like to be called Potter at the best of days, to be called that by an entity who was trying to ritually take over a boy’s body was not something he ever wanted to experience again. 

“Lupin.” Malfoy corrected the Heir of Slytherin, who scoffed. 

“Oh yes. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, now do I?” He rolled his eyes. “That would be far too cruel.” His eyes turned dark and hateful as he looked upon Malfoy, he didn’t try to hide it yet there was some semblance of trying to control his emotions. “You are a Pureblood, how dare you come here with the intention to stop the Heir of Slytherin? You should be proud of your blood, yet you are behaving like a blood-traitor. Whatever would your father say if he saw you like this?” The entity mocked Malfoy with a soft voice, one which was meant to slice deep, aiming for the most fragile parts of the victim. 

The blonde wizard flinched and avoided the Heir’s eyes, curling together where he was standing. Harry could almost smell the guilt and regret coming from his friend. 

“What do you want with Weasley, Riddle?” Harry took a step forward, shielding Malfoy in the process. “Why are you doing this in the first place?” He tried to distract the entity from his fellow Slytherin student. “Why do you fight a senseless war against Muggle-born students?”

The Heir looked towards Harry, his expression returning to amusement. The same cruel, cold amusement with which children crush defenseless insects under their thumbs. He smiled, a polite, mocking little grin, which made Weasley’s face seem far older than twelve. “Oh Harry.” He almost purred. “Do you think this is about killing Muggle-born students? For all your pseudo intellect, you really are but a child. You truly have not figured out the reason why?” 

“I…” Harry blinked at him. “What do you… I’m not sure I…” 

The red haired Heir scoffed, shaking his head as a look of disgust spread over his face. “How come that you are still alive while the greatest mage the Wizarding World has ever seen lost his life that night? How come you escaped with nothing but a little scar while Lord Voldemort lost his life?” The words left him faster and faster, increasingly spiteful. “I do not care about killing Muggle-borns anymore. I care about returning, I care about killing you and return to glory once more.” 

Malfoy swallowed, lifting his hand to hide his mouth. Harry just stared, unable to understand what the Heir was trying to say. 

“Returning from where?” Harry managed to formulate his thoughts in a very clumsy manner which made the Heir laugh. His laughter was loud and cruel, it made Harry feel as if a person’s sanity could be forced out of them if they were to listen to that laughter for a longer amount of time. 

“Lupin… He is the Dark Lord.” Malfoy looked at him with a look of such utter terror that the expressions on the basilisk victims seemed mild in comparison. “He is Lord Voldemort.” Harry’s heart sank so deep into his chest that it physically hurt. 

"Voldemort is my past, present and future." The Heir of Slytherin added with glee, his face lit up by mad triumph. “Did you really think I was going to keep my filthy Muggle parent's name? The name of the man who abandoned me and my mother as soon as he learnt that she was a witch?” He looked like he wanted to pace, wanted to make grand gestures with his arms yet he was trapped in the middle of his ritual and couldn’t move. “No, I created a new name, a name which would be feared and respected by all: Lord Voldemort, the greatest sorcerer in the world!” The Chamber threw his words around as he raised his voice, repeating and raising them in volume as if the chamber was filled with supporters who shared the madman’s views. 

“You’re not the greatest sorcerer in the world!” Harry called out, he didn’t mean to scream but he wanted to halt the horrible choir which cheered the ego of the Dark Lord. 

The Heir’s head snapped towards him like a snake, baring his teeth in a fit of anger. Harry realised that he would likely have attacked him if not for the fact that he was trapped by the circle, and that Weasley’s wand was the most unreliable piece of magic equipment thinkable. 

“You foolish child!” Weasley’s voice screamed at him. “Name one mage greater than I!” 

“I’ll name you plenty!” Harry screamed back, their words fighting for dominance in the chamber by means of whose echo persisted the longest. “Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Merlin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Newt Scamander, Arthur Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom!” 

The Heir looked like he was close to a heart attack triggered by anger, he lifted his hands as if to try and claw at Harry but could of course not reach him. “None of them are greater than I! I have accomplished more than all of those people together.” 

“They have gone beyond anything you could ever dream of accomplishing!” Harry yelled back, feeling his chest swell with passion and love towards the people he had listed whom he knew. “All of them have done more than leave a legacy of fear and ruin!”

“Children have no legacy!” The Heir called back, once more sweeping at Harry with hands which couldn’t reach him. “How dare you claim children to be my betters?”

“Hermione Granger figured out what monster hid in the Chambers of Secret at the age of twelve! Draco Malfoy overcame a lifetime of indoctrination and changed his ways! Neville Longbottom can barely use magic and yet he leaped into darkness for the sake of saving the life of a fraud! Your want for destruction and thirst for blood doesn't make you great. Actions of compassion and love, acts of improving and doing what is right in the face of danger makes you great! Nobody would ever claim that Voldemort was great, they would call him a bloodthirsty tyrant!” Harry could feel his own features twisting into an equally mad smile as the Heir’s had previously been. 

He was screaming words of insult to the young memory of the Dark Wizard, and he was clearly riling him up. Yet, Harry had never felt more certain of anything in his life. By his side, Malfoy was stunned into silence, looking at Harry with deep admiration and humbleness. Harry himself kept on looking at the boy in front of them, staring him down with all his might. 

The Heir and Harry glared at one another, Harry’s final claim still echoing around them while Malfoy remained slightly curled together behind his friend. The wizard in the magic circle slowly chuckled, starting to pull himself together from their shouting match. 

“I don’t need to discuss these things with you, your childish logic is pathetic and laughable.” He took a deep breath, pulling his red hair from his face and smiled politely again, once more causing his features to look older. “Why did you survive back then, Harry? Tell me and I will make your death less painful.” 

Harry swallowed, taking a deep breath. “My mother died to save me, her love protected me from you.” 

“Then there truly is nothing special about you at all.” The conclusion was jubilant, as if the Heir had been desiring with all his heart to exclaim that Harry was of no importance. _“Come. Finally, you will feast. Feast on two naughty children.”_

Malfoy grabbed Harry’s arm, yanking it hard. “Parseltongue!” He called out, informing Harry that the Heir had not spoken English. 

“Your Parseltounge won’t save you now, Harry!” Weasley’s body laughed.

The chamber was filled with a loud scraping noise as a portal was opening somewhere behind the possessed Weasley, who held out his arms as if welcoming the snake, making certain to not look at the monster which was slowly slithering out from between the statue’s legs. 

_“Basilisk!”_ Missy called from Harry’s bag. 

Harry grabbed Malfoy’s arm and the two of them began to run. The Heir laughed as they ran, his laughter accompanied by the sound of the basilisk’s giant body beginning to follow them. Harry could see its shadow on the wall, the shadow alone witnessed just how terrifying the monster was. 

_“Kill the blonde one first!”_ The Heir ordered his snake, pointing after them. _“Make sure they suffer from your poison.”_

The snake picked up speed, opening its mouth as it quickly caught up to them. Harry could see the shadow mouth open, knowing that the snake was just behind him and coming for his best friend. 

“No, stop!” Harry hadn’t planned on shouting, he felt as if his body was moving on his own as he tackled Malfoy to the ground so that the basilisk couldn’t bite him, shielding him with his own body. There was only one thought in his head, one thing he could think of: protecting the other from the King of Serpents. 

A deafening silence lowered itself over the Chamber. Harry lay still, his eyes closed, and his arms wrapped around his best friend whom he had pushed to the floor. 

There was more silence, then yet another few moments of silence.

Finally, the silence was broken by the Heir’s annoyed voice. _“What are you doing?”_

The son of a werewolf opened an eye, glancing at the shadow of the snake. It had stopped and was slowly swaying back and forth in place. Then Harry heard it speak. The sinister, cruel voice which he had heard over and over that year, whispering only of death and hunger, spoke. _“Master…Said stop.”_

Malfoy was slowly moving, having realised that the snake was not attacking. He could hear that something was happening but he couldn’t understand the words which were exchanged. Harry moved off him, urging the other boy to continue on moving. They both got to their feet, trying to move silently away from the serpent. 

_“What?”_ The Heir sounded confused and annoyed. _“I have not told you to stop, I have ordered you to kill.”_

His words made Harry understand what he should have understood as soon as the snake halted itself. 

_“You?”_ The serpent spoke once more, now turning towards the possessed Weasley who presumably closed his eyes so as to not meet its eyes. _“You… voice from memory… Not real… Boy of flesh and blood… Heir of Slytherin… Flesh… and blood.”_

Harry understood what the snake meant, with his heart pumping and his mind racing, he understood. The snake did not accept Weasley as its Master, it did not accept Riddle’s diary, yet it did accept Harry. According to the monster, Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. 

“Keep on going and don’t look back.” Harry whispered to Malfoy upon whose back he had kept his hand until that point. The boy followed his order, continuing on as Harry stopped. The son of a werewolf closed his eyes and turned towards the monster. “You say that I… am your Master?” He hoped to Merlin and Slytherin that he really was speaking Parseltongue. 

He heard the heavy movement of the snake as it approached him, he could imagine the terrifying head lowering down towards him before he felt the breath of the ancient beast on his face. Harry became shockingly aware of the fact that if he opened his eyes he would be dead within a second. The thought was almost enough to make his legs falter under him. He felt the snake’s wet, cold tongue hit his chest as it smelled him. 

_“I… smell your... fear…”_ The sinister voice was so strong that it vibrated through Harry, he could feel every word in his bones. _“I smell you.”_

“Am I your Master?” Harry forced his voice to remain calm, trying to address the monster with authority he wasn’t certain that he possessed. 

_“Touch...me.”_

Harry slowly moved his hand forward, trying to locate the giant head of the serpent. He found it soon enough, far too close for comfort. His hand touched the scales and he stroked over them, gently petting the ancient creature. As he touched it, he felt as if he came to a prominent understanding. This beast wasn’t evil, it didn’t hunger for blood or the death of all Muggle-born students at Hogwarts. It had not asked to be born with eyes to kill or to be used as a tool for murder. It was simply a beast who had been placed in this position by an old wizard.

It was no more evil than Missy, it was simply hungry. A predator like any other, a huge animal like any other. It did not make it any less dangerous in theory, but the lurking evil which the entirety of Hogwarts had feared, did not exist. It was a very dangerous snake, yet not an evil one. 

The tongue danced over Harry’s arm, smelling him, understanding him in return. Harry felt himself smile. “I saw your shedded skin earlier, you are beautiful.” 

The snake pulled back from him, he could hear it rise up to its full length again. _“No fear… Respect… My Master.”_ Harry felt his heart beat with excitement as it recognised him as its Master. 

_“No!”_ The possessed Weasley objected loudly. _“I am the Heir of Slytherin, I am your Master. I have fulfilled and sought for the removal of the filthy Muggle-borns who infested Hogwarts with their soiling presence upon this institute of magic. You should recognise me and me alone, as I have commanded you before, I command you again: kill for me!”_

“It’s a snake, Tom.” Harry addressed the possessed boy by the entity’s birth-name, as Riddle refused to acknowledge him as Lupin, and was mockingly referring to him as Harry as to destroy the barrier of distance between them which surnames would otherwise keep. Harry did it to show the other how uncomfortable it was to have a person disrespect one's name in the manner which Riddle did. “It doesn’t care about your grand ambitions or your quest of murder. It is only here for you to use because someone locked it up here, can’t you see that?” 

“I… This isn’t…” The former Heir of Slytherin stuttered, desperately searching for some answer to throw back at Harry, yet found none. The son of a werewolf got the strong impression that the other’s face had turned very red. 

Harry turned to glance at the shadow of the snake to try and judge where it was facing. He found that it was looking towards Weasley, thus, Harry took the chance to glance after Malfoy to try and see where he had gone. 

“Accio, diary!” The words were likely nothing more than a whisper, but the acoustics in the Chamber of Secrets made the sound far louder. Malfoy had reached the end of the Chamber and was hiding outside of it. He had not opened his eyes as he cast the spell, instead simply pointed his wand and cast the spell before disappearing back outside again.

Tom Riddle’s diary flew from its place between Ron Weasley’s legs, leaving the magic circle in a wide arch. The possessed boy’s eyes widened, watching the diary which hosted the memory of the young Dark Lord flew towards Malfoy. Weasley reached out but without a wand, the twelve year old boy could not use any magic. 

Harry saw the diary’s shadow on the wall, the basilisk saw something coming towards it and reacted instinctively. The animal lunged forward, sinking its teeth into the unidentified object which came towards it, blocking it from being able to get to the caster of the summoning charm. 

The King of Serpents’ teeth easily sank into the little book. Judging by the sound of it, the poison in its teeth corroded the material before it spat the diary back out. It landed next to Harry, who could see ink flow from the holes in the diary, like blood through an open wound. He heard the possessed Weasley scream, followed by the sound of something falling over, hitting the ground hard. 

Somewhere far above him, the basilisk hissed. _“Not food… I am so hungry…”_

Harry closed his eyes and turned towards it, raising his hand to urge it to come down so that he could pet it. “I will speak to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Hogwarts has a very good gamekeeper, I am sure that he could provide you with food but it really isn’t safe for anyone if you leave these Chambers since your stare kills people.” The son of a werewolf tried to summarise to her. “As your Master, I don’t want you to leave and kill anyone again.” 

The snake seemed to sigh deeply. _“Master… I am old. Hunting hurts. Would be happy… to be fed…”_

“Then I will arrange it the best I can. Would sliding food down the entrance to this place be enough? That place where you have gathered all those skeletons?” Harry felt very relieved to learn that the snake didn’t actually want to leave the Chamber of Secrets. 

_“Yes.”_ The monster agreed. 

“Then please go back to where you were before Riddle summoned you so that you don’t actually hurt one of my friends.” Harry patted its nose. 

He heard the serpent leave, slowly slithering away from him, past the magic circle and disappeared into her hidden room behind the statue of Salazar Slytherin. Harry felt as if he could breathe out for the first time that day. Finally… It was over. He felt so very faint that he had to sit down right then and there, more or less falling to his knees from exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **The Heir of Slytherin**  
>  Of all the problems and plot holes we run into while trying to adapt the books into this fanfic series, this one has been discussed for quite some time.  
> It is true that Voldemort is a distant blood relative of Salazar Slytherin, and that Harry is not related to Salazar Slytherin by blood. 
> 
> However, Tom Riddle's diary isn't his blood; it's his essence in the shape of a horcrux, a part of his soul and entity. In that same sense, Harry is a horcrux as well and an equal amount Voldemort to the diary, and there is no reason to why possessed children or the diary should be able to control the basilisk if Harry cannot. Much like other canon abilities Harry has gained from being a horcrux which canonly disappears upon Voldemort's defeat, his control over the basilisk will as well. Had the diary not proven to have control as it is not actually a blood Heir, neither would Harry have control, but here we are.


	20. Chapter 19 - In which the false Heir confesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The red haired boy slowly came to, opening his eyes to stare without seemingly being able to focus. Harry and Malfoy waited, silently watching him until his eyes came to focus on them. Weasley blinked, then flinched when he realised who he was looking at. 
> 
> “Oh...no…” The redhead slowly tried to sit up but fell back again, his body seemed to be causing him pain. “Where… where am I?” He mumbled. “Is this the… Chamber of Secrets?”
> 
> “It is.” Malfoy told him. 

“Lupin!” Malfoy came running towards him. He had likely used his hand mirror to confirm that the basilisk was gone before he came back into the Chambers. The boy more or less crashed to his knees next to Harry, colliding into him and embraced him. Harry returned the hug, holding the other tight while burying his face against Malfoy’s chest. 

“Are you alright?” The son of a werewolf mumbled, trying hard to smile at his friend, but his exhausted body and mind didn’t quite manage to perform as he wanted it to.

“Am I alright?” Malfoy seemed insulted, pouting down at Harry with an almost angry look on his face. “You just faced down a basilisk and defended Neville Longbottom as the superior sorcerer compared to the Dark Lord, are you alright? What happened, did… did you defeat him again?” 

Harry explained in as few words as he could what had happened when Malfoy had called for the book. “When it flew past it, Secrets bit into the diary. It's a snake, it will lash out if something suddenly assaults its field of vision. It seems to have broken it completely and saved Weasley from that magic circle.” He waved towards the book which the snake had spit out, it’s broken carcass silently proving the strength of basilisk poison.

“Secrets? Did you… name the basilisk?” The blonde wizard looked at Harry as if he couldn’t believe his ears. 

Harry shrugged. “I think it deserves a name. Besides, these are clearly its Chambers so… Secrets it is. There doesn't exactly seem to be any actual secrets down here.” He carefully began standing up, looking around to make certain that he hadn’t dropped anything before he began to approach Weasley’s fallen body. “In summary, without you casting that summoning spell, I don’t know what would have happened.” 

“I… I needed to do something, it was the only thing I could think of.” The other boy sounded sheepish when he answered. “I’m just so very relieved that you are fine.” He concluded, almost as if he tried to wave the topic away. 

Ron Weasley was lying half outside the magic circle and half inside of it, his eyes were closed but his chest slowly heaving up and down as he breathed. After some slight hesitation, Harry pulled his body away from the circle and carefully knelt down next to Weasley. Malfoy sat down on his knees next to Harry, looking more than a little uncomfortable over the whole situation. 

“Weasley?” Harry carefully shook the boy’s shoulder, trying to wake him up. “Weasley… are you alright?” 

The red haired boy slowly came to, opening his eyes to stare without seemingly being able to focus. Harry and Malfoy waited, silently watching him until his eyes came to focus on them. Weasley blinked, then flinched when he realised who he was looking at. 

“Oh...no…” The redhead slowly tried to sit up but fell back again, his body seemed to be causing him pain. “Where… where am I?” He mumbled. “Is this the… Chamber of Secrets?”

“It is.” Malfoy told him. 

“I… see.” Weasley stared silently up at the ceiling for a while but then tears started to roll down his cheeks. He sniffed and hid behind his hands as the Chamber filled with the sound of his crying. Malfoy looked highly uncomfortable but Harry remained calm. 

“It’s alright, we’ll talk when you’ve finished crying.” He told the boy in a as much of a gentle, soothing voice as he could manage. 

Weasley cried for quite a while before he could talk to them. When he finally did gather himself, his first words were to ask if he had actually killed someone this time. 

Harry shook his head. “No, nobody was killed. You almost lost your body and consciousness to a sort of… ghost memory, I suppose, but I think that you will be fine.” 

“I don’t feel fine…” The boy mumbled, looking pouty as he did. His face remained in a pouty expression as he continued to speak, yet Harry found it more likely that he kept that expression as he didn’t know how to express himself any other way. “I… I’m sorry, I really, really messed everything up.”

Malfoy snorted. “Yeah, that’s the least yo-”

Harry raised his hand to stop him. “Would you tell us about what happened? We found your diary and we have read all your conversations with Riddle, but we want to hear it from you. We won’t blame you for anything until you have given us all the information, so please tell us everything from the beginning.” 

Weasley hesitated, it was clear by just looking at him that he didn’t especially trust or like either of them. Yet they clearly knew what had happened, there was no point in holding back now or pretending that they were enemies, as Harry and Malfoy had come to save him from the former Heir of Slytherin. 

“After we met in that bookstore, I found this diary in my cauldron. I always thought that once I began at Hogwarts, I would become… my own person or something like that. Yet… magic is hard, I have no real talent and my wand never quite… works right.” The red haired boy stumbled through his sentences, for the first time voicing what he was feeling. What he had felt for a long time. “Everyone knows me as a Weasley, either they are telling me about my dad who they’ve read about in the newspaper, or my dragon taming brother. 'Else they talk about the Prefect Percy, or my oh so funny and wonderful brothers Fred and George. This year, Ginny started too and at least she gets to have the privilege of being the girl Weasley. I’m constantly compared to everyone, sometimes my own mother doesn’t even remember me by my name.” He was choking up again, thus stopping to let his emotions settle. 

“At home, they are as obsessed with you as they are with Lockhart, my mom really hoped that we could be friends so that she would get to meet you, and while coming home during the Holidays, it was all Potter this and Potter that.” Harry couldn’t hold back a shudder. He knew that people thought of him like that but to actually hear it about people he knew existed rather than strangers made him feel rather uncomfortable. 

“I know that we are poor, alright?” He looked accusingly at Malfoy now, his eyes once more wet. “I know it, I know, and I hate that everyone knows. I didn’t ask to be born yet another Weasley who is slowly eating my family to ruin. I know that I’m essentially dressed in rags and I can’t even get my own wand. When I broke it this year, I was so scared and yet everyone around me was just laughing. For every new mistake, they laughed. I went from being their friend to being a laughingstock and there was nothing I could do about it.” He was crying again, stopping to hide his face from them, but mostly Malfoy. 

“...Weasley?” Malfoy spoke carefully, more gently than Harry had ever heard him. “Do you know that Hogwarts has funding for people in your situation? You can apply for a scholarship and get help if you cannot afford the basic required equipment.” 

The Gryffindor student shook his head. “Your dad is on that Board, the request must pass through them. With the way our families are, he’d never let me get a wand through those means. Dad won’t even let me apply for it because then Lucius Malfoy would know that we can’t afford it.” 

Harry felt disgusted. He licked his lips, trying to keep his anger at bay by slowly breathing and counting to ten. “That’s… sickening, how could both your fathers be so obsessed with a feud that they are ruining their children’s futures for the sake of not losing? That is so wrong!” He couldn’t think of any stronger words than those. 

Malfoy took a shaking breath. “You are right… that is very wrong. Yet I don’t think my father can stop you from getting funding for a new wand, he isn’t the Board on his own, he can’t refuse you.” 

“But he’d know… and that is all the more shameful.” Weasley whimpered. 

“It’s not.” Harry’s voice was stern as he spoke. “Me and dad are struggling too, there is no shame in not having enough money. It’s not anyone’s fault and it’s nothing anyone should be forced to feel ashamed of.” 

Weasley sniffed. “You are struggling? But you’re Harry Potter, how could you be struggling?” 

“Because I’m not Harry Potter.” Harry objected, his voice still stern. “I’m Harry Lupin, a real person and not the ideal of the-boy-who-lived. I’m not some hero to be celebrated, I’m just a person who survived thanks to the love and protection of my mother. She was special, not me, I just happened to be there. I’m happy when I am with my friends, I like hugs, I am really bad with too much noise at the same time, or when everyone is looking at me. Malfoy has had to save me from crowds countless times. I’m not special, I’m not a brave, self-sacrificing hero. I’m just a person.” He clearly rambled out that whole part, far tired of hearing people claiming what he was and wasn't.

Weasley was silent for a while, it seemed that Harry had finally managed to get through to him in that the image which the boy was projecting onto him wasn’t real. The red haired boy licked his lips, nodded, and then returned to his own story of how he had ended up in this situation. 

“So I… thought I had friends. Yet when I ended up being known as the guy with a broken wand, I became their lackey instead. People all around me were making fun of me, Fred and George bullied me, and Percy scolded me for being unable to cast magic. Ginny avoided me with every chance she got.”

“I went to those Quidditch tryouts thinking that maybe I could join and at least become good at something. I wasn’t good enough. Then I heard you insult Granger and I thought that it was finally my time to step in and become a hero but instead I… I messed everything up for myself and she didn’t even realise that I did it for her. N-not that I like her, but she and Longbottom are always alone so I thought that maybe I could do something impressive and become their friend. It… didn’t work.” He swallowed down a sob. 

“Then Tom, uh, I m-mean Riddle… He started speaking to me. With his help and guidance and support, I felt less lonely, less… useless. He filled me with confidence and helped me get through the bullying. I really did think that he saw something in me. I guess I was so desperate to be someone that I came to believe all he said, that I came to hate those who I could pretend were less than me. I… I understand that the Muggle-born students aren’t any less, but when I was that desperate, I wanted them to be. So I made myself believe that they were.” As he confessed to his Pureblood mentality, he blushed deeply with shame. “I know it wasn’t right, I-”

“It’s alright.” Harry stopped Weasley’s excuses before he could overwhelm them. “You know that it wasn’t right, you are ashamed, and you won’t do it anymore, right?” Weasly nodded sheepishly. “Then it is alright indeed. You are forgiven for thinking those things back then.” 

The other boy swallowed. “Really? I… I won’t be going to Azkaban?” He looked at Harry with desperate, pleading eyes. 

“No.” Harry assured him. “You were tricked by Riddle, he almost took over your body, and possessed you. Even if you were angry and spiteful, even if you hurt people, the diary is destroyed. Nobody can use it as proof to send you to Azkaban. If you tell Professor Dumbledore everything, I’m sure he will be able to help.” Harry completely forgot that the Headmaster had been removed from the school, mistakenly believing and expecting the man to be there when they got out. It felt impossible to think that he would not be.

His words seemed to calm Weasley down. “T-thank you. Where… ah, I had a fight with To- Riddle over one of his victims. I realised that I had to get rid of the diary and after the Holidays, well… I… I felt so loved after the Holidays from being at home, that I had the strength to throw it away. I didn’t think anybody would find it if I flushed it down the toilet in that bathroom which nobody uses. Then… one day, during class, I saw it in your bag Po-, uh, Lupin.” He stopped to correct himself. “I thought that you might have figured out that it was me who was the Heir of Slytherin, so I panicked and I stole it back from you.” 

Malfoy looked close to saying something very honest and hurtful to the Gryffindor student, but Harry stopped him with a stern look. 

“I didn’t write to him at first, I tried to keep it away from others. I even considered burning it, but he started talking to me, f-for real. I heard him in my sleep and sometimes when I was alone. It was… horrible I tried to resist, I really did but then, when I was in the library, hiding from that Quidditch game, I happened to see Granger. She said something out loud about figuring it out, so I glanced at her book and saw that she had worked out the thing about the basilisk. I… I panicked again, opened the diary to write to Tom and then… I don’t remember anything until you two just woke me up. Uh… what happened? Did you two kill the basilisk?” 

“You didn’t mean to attack Granger?” Malfoy demanded to know, staring down at the boy as if he was strongly considering whether he wanted to punch him or not. 

Weasley shook his head. “I tried to ask Tom what to do, I didn’t want to attack her. At least I don’t remember wanting to attack her…” 

Harry and Malfoy exchanged looks. 

“...Alright.” Harry concluded. “You have been terrorising the school for quite some time, and both of us have been blamed for your deeds. We know that you wanted at least some manner of recognition, but we both suffered for those accusations. None of us thought it was fun, despite what Malfoy managed to trick you into thinking when he was acting tough about it.”

“You were...acting? You didn’t like being the Heir of Slytherin?” Weasley blinked at the blonde wizard. 

“No.” Malfoy shook his head. “I do not enjoy the idea of everyone in school thinking that I’m some blood-crazed murderer who wishes the demise of people based on their parent’s magic abilities. That is not the type of attention I want.” 

The Gryffindor boy blushed deeply as Malfoy explained just what it had been like to be believed to be the Heir of Slytherin. Harry licked his lips, avoiding mentioning that the basilisk had appointed him the actual Heir above young Lord Voldemort. 

“Ow.” Weasley had finally realised that his finger was hurting, upon looking down at it, he found a deep gash. He followed his own body and spotted the magic circle by which edge he lay. He swallowed as he concluded that his blood must have been used to paint it. He hesitated but then glanced back at Harry and Malfoy. “I… Why are you two here? Why did you come, how did you find the Chamber of Secrets? I only found it due to Tom.” He forgot himself yet again and addressed the Dark Lord by the name of the friend he had found in the diary. 

“...We thought that your sister was the culprit.” Malfoy confessed in a subtle tone of voice. “I would have suspected you but the, uh… The Slug incident wasn’t mentioned in detail in the diary. There were many things which pointed towards the girls’ bathroom on the second floor so… Yeah.” 

“Once we learnt that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a basilisk, we managed to figure out that the bathrooms were the only possible hiding spot where it could get away after petrifying Mrs. Norris. Especially since we arrived there so fast.” Harry summarised. “But if you can move now, I think we really should try and get back to Neville and Professor Lockhart.”

“Why are they-” 

“It’s a long story, can we perhaps get out of the Chamber and then speak about all the details?” Malfoy cut the boy off. 

“I… feel lightheaded.” The red haired wizard confessed. “But I’ll try to walk.” 

“You can lean on me.” Harry stood up before offering the other his hand. 

Weasley hesitated. “Would you… really have come here to save me if you knew that it was me who, well, did all of these things?” 

“Probably yes.” Harry grinned at him. “We were rather certain that it was the Heir who was taken when we learnt of the disappearance of a student. It just seemed like the easiest target for someone like Riddle to get to and drag into the Chamber.” 

Weasley hesitated still, looking down at Harry’s hand with a nervous look on his face. Then, he slowly reached out and grabbed it, allowing Harry to pull him to his feet. Harry ducked under his arm, allowing Weasley to support himself on him before they began walking back through the Chambers of Secrets. Malfoy led the way, having used the wand lighting charm to light the way for all of them. 

They didn’t have to walk very far before the sound of voices reached them. Around the corner came a light, followed by a large man whose wand added to the light from Malfoy’s. The man’s first reaction was to aim his wand at them, but upon realising that they were children, he lowered it. 

“I’ve found the kids.” His dark voice echoed in the tunnels, bringing forth some more people whom Harry had never seen before. He realised that they must be the Aurors which had been sent for. Neville must have managed to get help. Harry had never met an Auror before but like most people, he respected them greatly for their work and the protection they brought to the magic society. 

“We are fine, there is nothing with us.” Malfoy called, holding his wand up to show that it was just the three of them. “Behind us, quite a bit, is the Chamber of Secrets. There is a basilisk there. It has retreated so please don’t go rile it back up.” 

A murmur went through the group of Aurors, they glanced at one another and shifted uncomfortably. 

“Please just leave the Chambers alone for now.” Harry called. 

It was clear just by looking at the Aurors that they viewed it as their duty and part of their job to exterminate the basilisk. Yet there was no denying how dangerous a creature such as that was. It should not be handled by an average Auror, not to mention that combating it would likely lead to losses no matter how talented they were. Finally, an Auror stepped forward. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” He concluded. “We will not go into the Chambers, now allow us to get you out.” He walked over to Weasley and simply lifted him up, carrying the boy in his arms rather than letting Harry support him. 

Another one approached Harry and one more approached Malfoy. They took up position behind them and started to lead them back towards the entrance of the tunnel. Harry thought it was embarrassing and a little frightening to have a large person walk behind him and watch over his every step while urging him forward. 

There was a group waiting for them by the beginning of the tunnel. Harry spotted Neville’s small form next to that of Professor Snape, alongside people who he assumed to be more Aurors. Lockhart was nowhere to be found, perhaps he had already been removed from the scene. 

“Harry! Malfoy!” Neville spotted them and ran over, hugging Harry. He would probably have hugged Malfoy but he didn’t know if he was allowed to or not so be refrained from it, instead hugging the one he knew to like and welcome hugs. “Oh thank Merlin you are alright! Are you alright, did you find h- uh… Weasley?” He stepped back to look for the girl but instead found her brother where he hung in the arms of a strong Auror, looking smaller and redder than ever. 

“Professor.” The Auror who held the boy walked over to the Potions Master and spoke subtly into his ear. The teacher nodded and so the man left with the red haired boy, casting a levitation spell on himself to allow him to float up the pipe. 

Professor Snape walked up to them, he looked tired enough to not have slept at all. Harry got the feeling that the man was terribly mad with them but didn’t have any energy left to show his anger. Slowly, the Professor spoke. “Once again, you have done something incredibly reckless and foolish. You exposed yourself to danger when there were other alternatives. I will take fifty points away from all of you, both Slytherin and Gryffindor.” 

Harry didn’t feel anything when the man removed points from their House for the sake of a stupid competition which he held no investment in. After having been in a confrontation with Tom Riddle and a basilisk, having some imaginary points be removed from his House felt so trivial that he couldn’t even be bothered to be bothered by it. 

“I will sit you all down. Personally. And speak this over with you. You have a lot to answer for.” The Potions Professor continued, his cold voice causing Neville to shudder. “However, your parents are waiting for you in the Headmaster’s office. After your disappearance, they were called here.” He stared into Harry’s eyes with a look of such fierce emotion that the boy could do nothing but avoid his eyes. “Your parents are very worried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Facts & Headcanons ---  
>  **Ritual magic**  
>  Magic has been described in many shapes, forms and legends through history, and one of the most prominent and basic ones has been the one of ritual casting. 
> 
> We tried to find answers to how we could make the Diary make sense as both horcrux and how it was written in the second book, and hit a wall once we realised that he is a physical entity and manifestation who could have accomplished most of these things without kidnapping a child. Riddle is shown to have far too many powers to need the Weasley child in the first place.  
> Instead of granting the horcrux diary far too many unexplainable powers, it made more sense to limit its abilities to explain why it needed the child in the first place. 
> 
> Riddle in this work was trying to steal Ron's body with the use of complex ritual magic akin to that which mages and Muggles have attempted through history to have spiritual entities with no physical form in this realm to possess an individual. We do not support the idea that everything can be done with the use of wand flicks and spells in our work.


	21. Chapter 20 - In which Dobby receives a sock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my Merlin… you are all alive.” Professor McGonagall breathed out, causing Remus’ head to snap up.

Harry, Malfoy and Neville were taken to the Headmaster’s office. First, they were helped out of the tunnel by the Aurors, who used the same levitation spell to get them safely to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor. When they looked back towards what had once been the sink pillar, they found that said pillar had been removed. Judging by the bits and pieces of porcelain and dust, somebody had likely decided that blowing the structure up was preferable to attempt and fail to speak Parseltongue. It had evidently worked. 

The Headmaster’s office was full of people. Professor McGonagall was standing next to the desk, looking stressed but composed. She was looking towards the door as they were guided inside by the Head of the Slytherin House. By the paintings on the wall to the left of McGonagall stood an old woman. She looked every bit a witch, her very presence seemed to demand respect. She was tall, thin and bony, with an older cut of dress and a hat with a stuffed vulture resting upon it. Harry immediately identified the woman as Neville’s grandmother. She did not turn as her grandson stepped inside the room. 

To McGonagall’s right sat Remus Lupin upon a chair. He was leaning forward, hiding in his hands as his right leg twitched with anxiety and held back emotions. Behind him stood Narcissa Malfoy, dressed impeccably in black and green clothing which enhanced her pale features. Her hair tied up in a complicated knot and with an elegant black hat resting on top of it. From the hat fell a thin, see through piece of fabric, shading her from sunlight, not that there was any of that inside the office. Her thin lips were painted emerald green, a shade which flawlessly matched her other clothing garments. Mrs. Malfoy was gently patting Remus’ back with her gloved hand, supporting him in his distress as she would not allow herself to show her own. 

“Oh my Merlin… you are all alive.” Professor McGonagall breathed out, causing Remus’ head to snap up. 

He spotted Harry and was over by his side so fast that Harry almost thought that he had apparated. Remus fell down to his knees, capturing his son in an embrace which was tight enough to feel like it could almost crush him. Realisation hit the twelve year old child as he comprehended that he had once again put himself in incredible danger, faced the young Dark Lord and the King of Serpents. The reality of death and possibility of dying made Harry crumble. He hugged his dad, breaking down as well. Harry’s sobbing filled the room, alongside his frantic apologies to his dad. 

While the werewolf and his son took up most of the room’s attention, Malfoy slipped away from Harry’s side and walked over to his mother. As he looked up at her, his eyes filled with tears. His mother took him into her embrace, gently holding him close as she stroked over his head. “My darling.” She whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “My child.” Her son sobbed against her chest, clinging to her as his sobs added to Harry’s. 

Neville approached his grandmother, who looked down at him with stern eyes. “I… I’m sorry, grandma.” He mumbled out, staring down at his feet. 

She shook her head. “You’ve done good. I am proud.” 

Neville looked up at the woman as if he couldn’t physically comprehend what she had just said. He blinked at her, trying to understand but ended up being unable to. 

The old woman’s mouth pulled back in a smile as she patted her grandson’s head. “You make your parents proud.” 

With tears in his eyes, Neville bit his lower lip and nodded, trying to hold himself together as he was praised by his grandmother for the first time. He had never truly dreamed that he could ever make his parents proud, so to have his stern grandmother state for a fact that they were was enough to cause the boy to choke with emotions. Harry’s words at the beginning of his first year at Hogwarts had only made Neville accept the possibility of being accepted by his parents, not making them proud.

In the midst of the families welcoming their children back, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape glanced at one another. Neither of them knew quite where to look or what to say, thus, they stood back until the emotions in the room had settled. The Potions Master was trying very hard to not look down at the crying werewolf and his son. The man licked his lips, pretending that he was not seeing anything. He turned his head to the side to remove himself from the spectacle, only to find that Albus Dumbledore was standing next to him, looking out over the scene of crying families. The former Slytherin student jumped upon finding the Headmaster next to himself, yet proceeded to act as if it hadn’t surprised him at all. 

“Professor.” The Potions Master addressed him. 

“Severus.” The old man responded, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous spark which Snape wasn’t sure that he liked. Professor Dumbledore looked out over the scene before him, his expression turning soft. “So much love gathered in one room. Is it not rather beautiful?” 

The man who believed himself to never have felt love answered the wizard with a small shrug. He could not help but find Remus Lupin’s crying face most appalling. That twisted, scrunched up and shabby expression could not be love. Severus could not think of it as love, what he saw was worry and sadness, as well as relief. “Marvelous, Professor.” He answered, speaking through his nose while doing his utmost to not scrunch it. 

“I just met Arthur and Molly Weasley on my way here. They were just running to the hospital wing. It seemed that their son was safely rescued from the Chamber of Secrets and they were on their way to see him. Molly didn’t even stop to greet me.” He mused with a smile on his face. 

“Won’t it be problematic for you to return so soon after you were to depart from Hogwarts?” The Head of the Slytherin House asked. 

“Yes, so one would think.” The Headmaster agreed. “I was about to leave when a very stressed owl flew straight into me. The poor creature got stuck in my beard. When I managed to detangle the frightened thing, I found an envelope addressed to me. Inside it was a letter from the Hogwarts Board of Governors. It seemed that they had just heard about the kidnapping of young Mr. Weasley and begged me to return. There were some accusations back and forth. The usual.” He waved his hand, far too disinterested to speak politics with his employee. “I have been reinstated as Headmaster. Imagine that, I was homeless just an hour ago.” He chuckled to himself before stepping around father and son Lupin to walk over to his desk and Professor McGonagall. 

Professor Snape did not find the joke as amusing as the old man did. 

Harry finally managed to stop crying. He sniffed and began looking for a handkerchief to give to his dad. Remus sat back on the floor, just sitting down without regards to anything but his immediate need to sit. His dad’s breathing was slowly steadying as his emotions settled. Something nudged Harry and he found an elegant tissue box by his hip, pushing against him like a dog floating in the air.

“Thank you.” Harry picked a sheet from it whereas it proceeded to hover in front of Remus until he took one too and blew his nose. Harry watched as the box continued on to nudge Malfoy until he too took a piece of tissue paper.

After all the crying people had gotten the chance to blow their noses and dry their tears, they came to realise that Professor Dumbledore was sitting on his desk, studying them all with his calm, intelligent eyes. Harry had no idea where he came from but he was very thankful to see the old wizard again. 

“There seems to have been a great many things happening since I was told to leave. I have many questions, as I am sure that you do as well. If someone would be so kind as to inform us of the situation, I’d be most grateful, but before any words are exchanged I must make a few things clear.” Professor Dumbledore’s gaze was not stern as he looked around in the room, but it was serious. “As Professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, me, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Professor Lupin are bound by an oath of secrecy. That does not apply to Mrs. Longbottom or Mrs. Malfoy.” 

Both women glanced at one another as they were addressed. Neville’s grandmother thought about her answer. “Whatever transpired here today, it has nothing to do with me. If my presence here is undesired, I shall wait in a different room.” She looked towards the Transfiguration Professor. “Minerva, if you would be so kind as to show me some place where I may reside for the moment.” 

The woman nodded but before they left, they, as well as the rest of the room, turned towards Narcissa Malfoy. As she became the center of attention, her posture improved as she raised her head up just a bit higher. “Upon my pride as a Malfoy, what is addressed in this room today shall never find its escape by the means of my lips, tongue, or hands. I have no oath of secrecy, but my pride is of immense worth to me. To have broken this oath would be a stain upon my honour and my name.” She spoke clear and proudly, her hands resting on the shoulders of her son. 

Professor Dumbledore glanced at the Potions Master, who nodded. “Her words can be trusted, she is bound by pride and honour.”

Mrs. Longbottom and Professor McGongall left the room. The last thing Harry heard was Neville’s grandmother requesting some tea while she waited alone. 

“Well then…” The Headmaster looked over the students, his expression remaining kind but his gaze serious. “Who would like to start?” He sounded a lot like a teacher who asked what student would like to present their homework first, reminding Harry that the man truly was a Professor and it was not just a title he possessed. 

Both Neville and Malfoy looked to Harry. Remus had stood up and was now standing behind his son, next to Professor Snape. Carefully, his dad placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, silently supporting him as he knew how hard it was for his son to speak in front of a crowd. 

Malfoy reached up and squeezed his mother’s hand before beginning to speak, his voice strong and confident. “Last summer, before the fall term started, Ron Weasley came into possession of an enchanted diary, belonging to a Tom Riddle.” 

Professor Dumbledore tensed up, his posture turning stiffer as he turned towards the blonde wizard to give the boy his full attention. 

“This diary… It was within the possession of my father's, until it was given to Weasley. The first page of the diary even mentions father by name, easily placing a date upon when Weasley started writing in the book.” Malfoy continued, keeping his eyes on the Headmaster rather than looking towards his mother. 

“Where is this diary now?” The Headmaster asked, leaning forward where he sat. 

“It was destroyed by the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.” Harry explained. 

“By what?” Behind Harry, Remus' shocked voice spoke up in utter disbelief. “There was a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? You were… A basilisk?” 

“Lupin, you’re interrupting their story.” Next to him, Professor Snape sighed, trying to halt the man’s worries before he completely derailed the children’s explanation. “Ask questions later.” 

Remus didn’t pout but he looked rather upset still as he shut his mouth and continued to listen.

“So the diary was destroyed then?” The Headmaster asked Malfoy, who nodded in confirmation. 

“This diary seemed to have been infused with the memory of Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, who attended Hogwarts around fifty or so years ago. The diary manipulated Weasley throughout this year until it finally possessed him. I… admit that I don’t know much about the artifact in general, but Weasley described that he could hear the voice of Tom Riddle by the end of it, even though he wasn’t actively writing in the diary.” Malfoy hesitated once more but then continued. 

“Me and Lupin read the diary as Weasley tried to get rid of it. He was not in control when he committed those crimes or attacked those people.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. By the way Malfoy was phrasing it, his words hinted that Weasley never wanted anything bad to happen to anyone, even if that hadn’t exactly been the case. 

“Draco… Are you accusing your father of setting these events in motion?” Mrs. Malfoy spoke up, looking down upon her son. 

The younger Malfoy quickly shook his head. “I… I don’t want to accuse father of anything, but it is a fact that an artifact which was previously at our mansion somehow ended up in the hands of Weasley. There have been no artifacts taken from home, and if father had sold it to someone else, Weasley would not have the money to buy it.” He glanced at his mother’s face before looking back down at his shoes. “I… I don’t want to say these things but they have been eating me alive for months. None would be happier than I if this is all a misunderstanding but as it is now… all the facts do point towards… well…” 

“Madame Malfoy.” Albus Dumbledore addressed her as the woman struggled with the acceptance over what her son was accusing her husband of having done. “Can you confirm that there was a diary in your estate if Mr. Malfoy was to give you a description of it?” 

She shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid I do not visit my husband’s storage for magical artifacts, I’ve always found it somewhat dreary even if he by all right is proud of his collection.” She hesitated for a moment but then squeezed her son’s shoulders, her uncertain expression turning into one of determination. “Yet there is someone who can. If the Headmaster will allow it, may I summon our House Elf? He is responsible for all cleaning in the house, he should know of the artifacts.” 

“Please, do summon him.” The old wizard implored her. 

Narcissa Malfoy called for her House Elf. His name had barely left her lips before Dobby appeared next to his Mistress, looking just as frightened and small as usual. Harry felt his dad’s hand dig slightly into his shoulder as he subtly growled at the creature. Only Harry and Professor Snape seemed to notice, as they both nudged the werewolf to remain calm, neither aware that the other had done the same. It calmed the beast enough to not growl, but the man was still suspicious towards the House Elf. Dobby spotted Remus from the other end of the room and curled together, trying to hide further.

“That is the House Elf who appeared in our home last summer, speaking of a plot to kill Harry.” Remus managed somewhat well to keep his voice under control, but it was clear to his son that the man struggled to not growl again. 

“A plot to kill your son?” Narcissa bit back, she most likely didn’t mean to be aggressive but it must be quite shocking for her to hear that Remus was claiming that her House Elf had accused her husband of attempted murder. “Dobby, explain.” As she became upset, her voice darkened. 

“I… I don’t…” Dobby whimpered. 

“Explain.” Her voice turned even darker, Harry could tell by Malfoy’s reaction that this was not a voice which she used lightly. 

“Master planted the diary of T.M Riddle in the hands of a Weasley Hogwarts student, hoping that the student would write in the book and fulfill the work of Salazar Slytherin!” Dobby rambled. “Master planned to open the Chamber of Secrets and remove the Muggle-born from Hogwarts School, Dobby didn’t want Harry Potter to die so he tried to save him from coming to Hogwarts.” 

“But I’m not Muggle-born…” Harry objected in a weak voice. “Even if I don’t exactly like the idea of having anyone targeted based on blood prejudice, I would not be a target for the Heir’s mad idea of removing the Muggle-borns.” 

Dobby stopped, staring at Harry as if he had grown three heads whereas at least one of those heads was a werewolf. “Harry Potter Lupin is not… Muggle-born?” 

Harry and Remus both shook their heads. “His mother was a Muggle-born witch. He is a Half-Blood.” The werewolf informed the creature whose eyes looked so protruding that they seemed like they were about to fall out of his head. 

“Harry Potter Lupin is not… Muggle-born?” Dobby whispered. 

“What is the meaning of this?” The door to the Headmaster’s office flew open and Lucius Malfoy pushed his way past Professor Snape, Remus and Harry as he strode into the middle of the room, blind to all but Dumbledore who sat on his desk. 

Behind him followed a plump, short man who was holding a lime green bowler hat in front of himself like a little shield. Harry recognised him as the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. The man excused himself in passing Professor Snape but seemed ever so frightened and uncomfortable by Remus. Harry made an effort to place himself between the Minister and his dad, looking up at the man with a sultry look of disrespect. Fudge seemed to have a hard time about what to do about Harry’s reaction, so he pretended that Harry didn’t exist instead. 

“How dare you come back when you have been explicitly told to remove yourself from the premise? This is most undignified of you!” Lucius Malfoy all but pointed his snake headed staff towards the man.

“I was reinstated.” The Headmaster smiled politely at the angry man. “I have the papers right here, they were sent to me by this very stressed owl. Why the poor thing got itself caught in my beard and-” he held out an envelope towards Malfoy Senior as he spoke, which the man more or less yanked from his hand. 

He unfolded the letter and began to read. 

Dumbledore continued. “Some of them seem to be under the impression that you threatened them to have me removed from my position as Headmaster.” 

Lucius Malfoy snorted. “Ridiculous…” 

“While we are discussing supposed crimes…” The Headmaster’s voice was calm and direct. “It seems that one of Arthur Weasley’s children has come into possession of one of your magical artifacts. Said artifact possessed him and forced the boy to commit heinous crimes in the name of the Heir of Slytherin. I can only imagine what effect it would have for Arthur’s reputation and his current Muggle Protection Act if it was revealed that his child had attacked Muggle-borns in school.” 

Lucius Malfoy threw the letter back at the man, giving him a strained yet confident smile. “Indeed. Poor Arthur. Yet that has nothing to do with me now does it? Or are you accusing me of something? Not even you would be so foolish as to accuse me without evidence, now would you?” 

“No, Lucius, he does indeed have reason to accuse you.” Narcissa Malfoy’s voice was darker than Harry had ever heard it. Both her husband, son and House Elf tensed up, whereas Dobby whimpered and covered his eyes. 

Only now did Lucius Malfoy realise that his entire family was in the room. He almost took a step back yet somehow managed to stand his ground. “I… I did not see you, love. Pardon me for not greeting you soo- Draco, what has happened to your clothes, and your hair?” The man approached his son, reaching out to correct his hair. 

“Our son has just exited the Chamber of Secrets, where he was involved in a duel with a basilisk.” Narcissa started her husband in the eyes, fixing him with her gaze. 

Lucius Malfoy’s jaw dropped, he stared at his wife and then at his son, until he slowly spoke up in a weak voice. “W-what?” Harry felt as if the man had shrunken. He looked small and frightened as if the weight of the realisation that his one and only child had risked his life in venturing into the Chamber of Secrets physically compressed him into less than he normally was. 

Narcissa Malfoy reached out to grab her husband’s arm. She excused them and pulled the man with her into the closest corner, where the two of them started to conversate with one another in subtle, whispering voices. Nobody seemed to want to interfere, not even their son who slowly walked over to stand between Harry and Remus instead. Harry noticed that he was trembling, leading to him reaching out and grabbing his hand, offering him support. Remus reached out to pat the child’s back, silently offering his assistance as well. 

“Excuse me… Albus?” The Minister of Magic slowly waddled forward towards the center of the room, looking ever so uncertain. “I’m not sure I understand… Who is the villain here? Who should I have my people apprehend?” 

“Indeed, Cornelius.” The old wizard shrugged, crossing his legs where he sat on his desk. He frowned, looking up at the ceiling of his office. “Who is the criminal here? I’d say it’s Lord Voldemort, or as he was called back then, Tom Riddle.” 

Harry saw how his dad and Professor Snape exchanged quick, bothered looks with one another at the mention of the Dark Lord. 

Fudge seemed like he was trying to recover from being punched in the face. “U-u-uh? He-who-must-not-be-mentioned is dead! For eleven years. There is no Dark Lord anymore, he is gone!” 

“Yet the memory was left behind.” Professor Dumbledore’s answer was cryptic. 

“Uh, e-excuse me, Mr. Minister?” Neville spoke up in a light, nervous voice. 

Sometime during the whole exchange between Lucius Malfoy and Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall had come back. She stood next to her student, looking equally surprised as everyone else that the boy had asserted himself. 

“Why yes, my boy?” Fudge seemed to leap at the chance to deal with someone less cryptic, confusing and frightening than the Headmaster. He turned towards Neville and gave him his best Minister smile, the kind of smile which looked good enough on photographs but looked ever so strained in person. 

“If you want to arrest someone, maybe you should arrest Professor Lockhart?” Neville continued to speak in a small voice. 

The Minister looked surprised. “Lockhart? Gilderoy Lockhart? Why would I arrest a Third Class member of the Order of Merlin, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Mage Montly's Most Charming Smile Award?” He laughed nervously, looking around at the rest of the people in the room, as if it was a joke. 

“He tried to Obliviate us.” Harry spoke up. “He confessed to having used the Memory Charm on a collection of different mages and stolen their achievements for himself. He even told us how he planned on blaming the current incidents on Malfoy. There was a shedded snake skin close to the entrance of the tunnel underneath school, he said that he would take a piece of that and claim that he had slain the monster in the Chamber of Secrets.” 

“A...fake…?” Fudge echoed, looking like a kicked puppy. “But he’s an accomplished author… He couldn’t be a fraud.” 

“If I may,” Professor Snape spoke up, taking a step forward. “As memories are an effectively used part in magic trials, might I suggest you take a few memories from Lockhart himself? Or you can take one from each of the boys here, with their parents’ permission, and evaluate them for yourself?” 

The Minister had paled even further. “I… I will bring some of my Aurors to the hospital wing right away and have a talk with the man. I’m sure that there will be no need for memories…” He laughed nervously, almost causing himself to go lazy eyed in looking towards both Remus and the arguing Malfoy couple. He was clearly not excited about the idea of demanding memory evidence from anyone’s underage son. “Excuse me. Professors, children. Uh, um… You.” He gestured towards Remus, who he was clearly prejudiced against due to his werewolf nature. 

“Professor.” 

Harry, Malfoy, Neville, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape all spoke Remus’ title at once, effectively scolding and shutting down the Minister’s attempt to discriminate against him. The Minister blinked, looking at all the people around him. With the exception of Professor Snape, who might be trying to sink himself into the floor by means of magic, everyone was staring down Fudge with displeased looks on their faces. Harry heard how his dad choked back a sob. 

Fudge hurriedly left the room. 

Harry beamed up at his dad, who had hid his mouth behind his large hand, unable to face anyone’s gaze as he wrestled with his emotions. Luckily, someone else spoke and gained the attention of the room.

“Lucius agrees to keep everything and all said within this room in regards to the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin a secret from the outside world.” Narcissa Malfoy’s voice had returned to normal. A small piece of hair had parted from her elegant hairdo, but while it might look messy on somebody else, it appeared to be a choice of style for her. “I will continue to clarify that although it seems that the diary was indeed a former artifact of our home, that is all it was. The House Elf’s words are not enough to confirm that my husband was in any way involved with this diary ending up in the possession of one of the Weasley children.” Narcissa Malfoy summarised. 

“As for the House Elf in question.” The woman turned towards the creature, who cowered before her wrath. “Draco, what is the least valuable piece of clothing you are currently wearing?” 

Her son looked confused at her words. “I…” Then suddenly, he turned towards Harry as understanding lit his eyes up. “Are you still wearing that broken sock of yours?” 

Harry felt his ears and cheeks turn red. “I… w-what does that matter?” 

“Good, so you are. Hand it to me.” Malfoy held out his hand. 

“But it’s sweaty… and probably stinks.” Harry objected, feeling all the more ashamed as everyone’s gaze continued to linger on him. 

“I do not care, hand me the sock.” His friend continued to demand. 

Harry quickly bent down and untied his shoe, presenting the dirty, once white, sock to his friend with an ashamed look on his face. Malfoy took it and hurried over towards his mother, who did her best to not look displeased with the state of the sock which was presented to her. 

“Dobby,” the woman turned back to her servant. “For your many years of service to the Malfoy household, thank you. You are hereby dismissed.” She handed Dobby Harry’s dirty sock, which Dobby accepted as if it was the most valuable treasure in all of the Wizarding World. Harry was certain that the whole speech and formal way of doing things was simply the way Narcissa Malfoy did things. This was not out of respect for Dobby or House Elves, but because Madam Malfoy did not do things sloppily. 

“Madam has given Dobby a sock…!” The creature whispered. “Dobby is free!” He laughed, dancing around the room with the sock as his partner. “Free! Free!” He sang to himself. Professor Dumbledore applauded politely at the laughing little creature. He stopped in the middle of a spin, looking towards Harry. “Thank you for your sock, Harry Potter Lupin. Dobby shall treasure it always.” With those words, he apparated away to whatever place his little heart might take him. 

“Harry… Potter… Lupin?” Lucius Malfoy echoed, looking at his wife and then son, his face like that of a confused dog. Harry wondered if he was always this humble towards his wife, or only after he had made a horribly large mistake.

Harry didn’t believe for a second that the man was innocent in all of that which had happened, but Narcissa Malfoy was right in that there was no real evidence against him, as the House Elf’s words would never be taken seriously in a magic court of law. Not to mention that the Diary itself had been destroyed, and any written evidence within it had been rendered unreadable by the basilisk's poison and teeth. It was possible to connect the Diary to being a Malfoy artifact, but there was no way to link the events at Hogwarts to a plan constructed by Lucius Malfoy. Neither Harry, Malfoy nor Weasley's memory of reading or witing in the Diary would be enough to prove that Lucius was behind the plot, and their memories were more likely than not be be rejected as unreliable evidence in the first place. It was far more likely that their memories would be used to convict Ron Weasley of his crimes than they would help bring Malfoy Senior to justice. 

“Harry Lupin and… Harry Potter is the same… person?” Lucius Malfoy whispered, yet his words reached everyone in the room. 

“Harry is my son.” Remus responded, looking towards the handsome man and his wife, his gaze confident and determined. “That makes him Harry Lupin. Harry Potter is an icon, not a real person.” 

The two fathers met each other’s gaze, both of them knowing well that their sons were best friends. Remus would never allow a disagreement between two adults get in the way of his son’s friendship, everyone in the room was aware of that. If they weren’t inherently aware of it, Remus had well proved it during the Holidays and his time with the children. Lucius Malfoy was beyond doubt capable and perhaps even willing to let his conflicts affect the next generation and those around him. Everyone in the room was aware of that fact as well. 

The older Malfoy was challenged by Remus’ words, either he acknowledged his son’s friendship with Harry Lupin and maintained a public approval of him. Or he could try and separate them on the grounds of not acknowledging Harry as Lupin but insist on him being Harry Potter. If he picked the latter choice, everyone around him would know and blame him for his son’s loss of his best friend. Lucius Malfoy averted his eyes, nodding silently at the werewolf’s words. 

Professor Dumbledore turned back to the children. “I believe there are still a lot of things which you have yet to tell us but before that… Perhaps before that, I could offer everyone a drink and a chair? It seems that this is quite the lengthy tale which deserves to be told.” 

The explanation was a long one. The three students switched between themselves as to who was telling the story, trading speaking roles back and forth. They were all careful not to blame Weasley, and tried to the best of their abilities to not repeat all which the boy had confessed to Tom Riddle, as that was private information which they shouldn't have access to, or had the right to share. The story was constantly interrupted by someone or another, either requesting more information or clarification. 

Malfoy retold most of the story, focusing on their logic and motivation as for why they had chosen a certain action and when they had found the situation too complicated for them to act. It was clearly hard on him to confess that it had taken them this long to do anything because of his loyalty to his family and his father. Both Malfoys sat silently upon their chairs, listening to the explanation, yet when their son confessed his devotion to his family, they both looked touched and humbled. The father seemed to have a nervous habit of playing with his own hair, he only stopped when his child expressed that it was his love for his parent which had made him unable to act when it was morally required of him. Malfoy Senior was seeming so overcome with emotions that he forgot his nervousness and his hair for at least that moment.

The young blonde wizard reached their part of his story where he spoke of Harry’s confrontation with Tom Riddle, who had spoken to them through the possessed mouth of Ron Weasley. He proceeded to tell of how Riddle had called himself the greatest sorcerer and how Harry had yelled back the names of all his friends, family, and some of the most famous mages in history. 

Remus heard his name mentioned and turned rather red before hugging his son tightly. Professor Dumbledore looked humbled and happy upon hearing his name listed. Professor Snape scoffed, turning his head away from the gathered group to hide his real reaction. Neville turned so red that he matched the Gryffindor emblem in color. Of all people in the room, the borderline magicless boy could never have imagined himself being mentioned in a list to prove that Lord Voldemort wasn’t the greatest sorcerer. 

Harry took over next and explained what had happened between him and the basilisk. He explained the details which Malfoy didn’t know due to the fact that most of them were spoken in a different language. He spoke about Secrets, how the snake claimed to be old and tired and had little interest in hunting. Harry told the people gathered that the basilisk would be satisfied if the gamekeeper Hagrid could give her food. Professor Dumbledore agreed that Hagrid would likely be thrilled to care for a basilisk, even if he wouldn’t be able to see her. There was no doubt in the Headmaster’s mind that the man would be released from Azkaban and returned to his rightful place at Hogwarts. 

Harry remembered his promise to Missy and carefully addressed his deal with her to the adults. The boy knew very well that Malfoy wanted to keep the snake as his pet, so he suggested that the snake herself had claimed to want to live with his best friend. Malfoy looked overjoyed to have been chosen by a snake, quickly turning to request from his parents that he be allowed to keep her. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy appeared hesitant but then the mother gave her blessing, causing her son immense but restrained joy. Harry helped move Missy over to the boys lap, where Malfoy happily kept her. If Professor Snape had objections, he refrained from speaking them. 

Finally, Neville told his part of the story. He gave the most details as Harry and Malfoy were also unaware of what had happened to him and Lockhart after they had been left alone. Lockhart had been unmoving, so Neville had used Muggle healing to place the man in a position where he could breathe easily, before going to look for his wand. After securing the fraud’s safety the best he could, he had moved back to the pipe to explore ways to try and climb back up. He found no way back up and trying to climb proved fruitless. Thus, he had tried to mimic Professor Dumbledore’s magic in enhancing his voice and shouted back up the pipe. 

His spell hadn’t been good, but it had helped his voice reach Moaning Myrtle, who had been floating about the opening to the Chamber of Secrets. The two of them had yelled back and forth until Myrtle had agreed to get the Aurors in exchange for Neville bringing her some of the books which she had heard other people enjoyed. She was especially interested in one about a Princess Bride. The boy had agreed, whereas she later returned with a group of Aurors. Neville confirmed that they had blown the sink pillar up rather than found a way to open it, like Harry had suspected. 

With Neville ending his part, their story drew to a close. Everyone in the room looked to Professor Dumbledore, silently asking what happened now. The man sipped some tea from his cup, which had remained mostly untouched while everyone else finished theirs. 

“It seems that Hogwarts has lost its Defense against the Dark Arts teacher.” The old man spoke, his eyes wandering to the werewolf in the room. “Would you mind starting your employment slightly earlier than planned?” 

Harry’s head snapped towards his dad, who seemed unsure and a little embarrassed. “You’ve got a job at Hogwarts!” The son of a werewolf didn’t mean to yell but he got so excited that he couldn’t control himself, his face lit up with excitement and his grin so wide that his face hurt. 

“Yes. I was going to tell you after this term finished, I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret but the contract and-” 

Harry stood up and threw himself around his dad’s neck, nearly knocking him off the chair which he was sitting on. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you! Dad, this is amazing!” 

His dad chuckled, hugging his son back. “Thank you.” 

“We have... Mr. Lupin as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Neville looked up at the Head of his House for confirmation, who nodded back at him with a smile. “Yes,” the boy whispered to himself, loud enough that everyone could hear him. 

Harry sat back upon his chair, still beaming at the world. The Headmaster looked equally amused and happy as he continued to speak. “I will arrange for the contract to begin a little earlier, you will of course get financial compensation for the coming month. Your living quarters will be provided for by you taking over the office which Mr. Lockhart previously occupied, as I am imagining that you are reluctant to leave your son.” 

The old wizard looked towards the Potions Master before addressing him instead. “Severus, how long will it take until the mandrakes are ready for harvest?”

“According to Professor Sprout, they should be ready by the end of this week, Professor.” The man responded without hesitation. 

“Well then, are there any more questions? If not, I believe that it is time for my office to become slightly less populated.” The Headmaster chuckled as he looked around. 

Malfoy looked down at Missy, who was resting in his lap. He looked like he might want to say something or ask something but he remained silent. Harry didn’t notice that his friend was hesitating as he was far too excited about the prospect of his dad being a teacher at Hogwarts, meaning that he didn’t have to go home. 

McGonagall began leading Neville out, followed by Harry and his dad. Professor Snape rose as well, surrendering to having to show the new Defense Against the Dark Arts around the school as to not have a scarred, unknown, adult man walk around with his son in a time where Hogwarts was essentially in a crisis. The werewolf might look decently like a Professor in terms of clothing, but his scarred appearance made people inclined to think worse of him. The fact that he was very tall also played a part in making him more frightening to people who didn’t know him. 

The Malfoy family stood, beginning to walk towards the door. Narcissa Malfoy spoke to her husband in a subtle voice about needing to find a new House Elf or at the very least employ a cleaner for the moment. Draco Malfoy carefully lifted the snake into his arms and made to follow his parents, yet the Headmaster’s soft voice made him halt. 

“Young Mr. Malfoy, if you are not busy, would you mind staying for a little longer? There is a matter I would like to discuss with you personally as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.” 

The boy’s mother looked somewhat displeased with the idea of not being in the room when her son spoke with the Headmaster. She opened her mouth to object, but then stopped herself when she realised that she tried to interfere with a teacher speaking to his student. She took a deep breath to steady herself, before she lowered down to speak with her son. “Know that if you need us, me and your father will be waiting outside this office.” 

She did not mean to make it sound as if she expected the Headmaster to attack her son, and didn't realise the implication behind her words. Her worries lay in the man making her son uncomfortable with whatever likely mind opening words he had planned for her child. 

Malfoy nodded, returning to sit down on the chair which Harry had previously been sitting on. His hands absently played with Missy, which the snake didn’t seem to mind. Thus, Malfoy was left alone in the room with the Headmaster, as Harry and Neville happily showed Remus to his new office, while Professor Snape followed them to make certain that the job was done correctly and that Remus’ presence didn’t cause anyone alarm. 


	22. Chapter 21 - In which Albus Dumbledore speaks about the history of Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old wizard smiled again, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner as he started staring up at some of the hanging trinkets further up in the ceiling. Among them there was a larger brass planetarium moving around itself.
> 
> “Say, young Mr. Malfoy, would you like to know why Salazar Slytherin built the Chamber of Secrets?”
> 
> “What?”

Once all the people had left the Headmaster’s office, it became almost insufferably quiet for a few moments. In the midst of ancient artifacts and gathered collections through the ages sat a twelve year old boy, trying his best to remain calm and steady by absentmindedly petting his new snake companion. 

Petting Missy was all Draco could attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of emotions regarding everything which had happened. On top of it all, he felt a sense of relief in knowing that it was all finally over, and yet he feared the future which all of this would hold for him. 

“Now then, would you perhaps be interested in another cup of tea?”  
  
The Headmaster smiled in a calm and knowing manner, one Draco didn’t like in the slightest. He had grown up learning to expect gazes of the kind to be smug, and to mean trouble. The boy was already in such a miserable state that he very well doubted he could remain dignified, were the Headmaster’s words to prove to be challenging. 

Draco could only nod at the man, feeling just how tense he was. Just like his mother, he did not suspect this old man to in any way hurt him or give him reasons to distrust, but he was fearing the consequences of his father’s actions, and what the Headmaster would say to him in regards to it all. 

The boy was given another cup which filled itself with his favourite flavor of tea. After a sip of it, Draco felt like he could at the very least attempt speaking.  
  
“Professor, what-.. what is it you want to discuss with me?” He tried very hard to sound dignified, to sound like his mother, but found his voice trembling, and it was very hard to stay calm. It felt better to try to imitate the image of the woman who had raised him well, rather than the man who had become stained by lies and betrayals in Draco’s mind. He had admitted to the Headmaster, and everyone previously in the room, how he had protected his father longer than he should have, and thus felt very nervous to be alone with Professor Dumbledore. Had he not held his cup of tea, he would more likely than not have nervously started playing with his fingertips and nails again. Not that Draco himself would admit to having such a neurotic and messy habit, but it would have shown, to his great shame.  
  
The old wizard smiled again, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner as he started staring up at some of the hanging trinkets further up in the ceiling. Among them there was a larger brass planetarium moving around itself.  
  
“Say, young Mr. Malfoy, would you like to know why Salazar Slytherin built the Chamber of Secrets?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Draco couldn’t help himself. The Headmaster’s words were so very absurd. It wasn’t a proper or polite response, yet Draco felt something stir within him, threatening to overflow. He didn’t like the uncertainty of what the man had just stated. Why, if the man felt a specific need to tell him something in private, it was likely not the same words which he had announced to the entirety of the school. It was more likely than not something which Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t assume the child to know, thus something different. It made Draco feel more than a little suspicious.  
  
“He built the Chamber of Secrets for the basilisk which would one day be controlled by the Heir of Slytherin to chase the Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts,” Draco breathed out, then huffed, sounding every bit offended. Yet, there was still the hint of uncertainty, one which the Headmaster seemed to pick up on. 

Smiling softly still, Professor Dumbledore’s calm gaze fixated itself upon the boy in his office once more. “Ah yes, as would be the commonly known reasonings. However, I am asking whether or not the young Mr. Malfoy would like to know the far more likely to be real reason,” the old man almost hummed.  
  
Draco wanted to feel inclined to think the man was mocking him. Yet… he nodded.  
  
“Very good,” the Professor continued. “It will likely be a bit of a lengthy tale, as most of what I am about to tell you is not commonly known within our community.”  
  
The boy looked at the man, he was suspicious, yet found himself at the edge of his seat. The discussion was clearly not angling towards discussing his father, and for all intents and purposes it sounded like the Headmaster was to share with him a secret which he had not told the rest of the school. Draco respected the old powerful wizard, even if he had grown up with his father talking about the man’s incompetence and faults. Yet, he found he could not trust his father’s words on the matter, leaving him no choices but to see for himself.  
  
Albus Dumbledore once more leaned back, seemingly trying to think of where to start.  
“Well then,” he stated, and began speaking.  
  
“Back in the age when our dear founders of Hogwarts lived, magic was not quite what we know it to be today. If one was born with magical abilities, one was indeed very lucky if one had a family who could pass on their teachings, or in rare cases find a mentor. However, in most cases, mages were few and lonesome, for there were no societies and communities built for them. There were individuals who managed to assert themselves through their unique abilities which differed so from that of Muggles, and it is not unheard of to find them as advisors for Muggles in powerful positions.”  
  
“Like Merlin,” Draco responded. Professor Dumbledore nodded at those words, yet there was a strange gleam in his eyes when the boy spoke of the ancient famous wizard.  
  
“I know it might be difficult to imagine, but I implore you to consider a time where there were no wands to harness a focus in our magic abilities, little to no recorded guidance to be found, and little to no communities where mages could find like-minded to share their knowledge with. A child born with magic was at the mercy of the Muggle society around them, and at mercy of the weight of the powers which they had to learn to control mostly on their own.” 

Draco couldn’t help but to scrunch his nose at the description. It felt so very strange and alien to think of magic as something so very uncontrollable and chaotic after growing up to know how dignified the Wizarding World was… although, did he know that. Did he truly know the Wizarding World to be better than that of the Muggle one? He quickly took another sip of tea to force himself to leave the trail of thought and focus his attention back on the old wizard. 

Professor Dumbledore seemed to have been waiting for the boy to take in the information before he continued speaking. Draco was probably making quite an unpleasant face at what was being said.  
  
“We can only know history the way which it has been recorded for us. However, from the little evidence there is to pass on from the wizard Salazar Slytherin, it has been suggested that the man feared Muggles quite a bit.”  
  
Draco’s jaw dropped, not looking entirely different from when his father had found out about his ventures in the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
“Excuse me? He feared Muggles? What is that supposed to mean?” The boy couldn’t help himself.  
  
The old man hummed in response, calm as ever, “perhaps the young Mr. Malfoy should consider the world not from how we experience it today, but how it was experienced all those years ago from the mages without the opportunities we have.”  
  
Realisation hit the boy as he stared at the man, nodding carefully. After a short amount of time he managed to calm down enough to answer. “Well then, would you please tell me why Salazar Slytherin would fear Muggles?” Once again the boy attempted to speak with the grace and dignity of his mother.  
  
Albus Dumbledore’s smile widened, “excellent question, young Mr. Malfoy.”  
  
“See, Salazar Slytherin was a very wise scholar who attempted to care for the young mages in a world which did not quite welcome them. While some of the founders might have prioritised the building a society for mages, or the ability to research and learn to control the phenomenon we know as magic, Slytherin seems to have most desired to find a place where mages were safe, and no longer at the mercy of the Muggles around them.”  
  
“Until rather recent history, mages have been isolated and held back by the world, struggling to control powerful abilities which may have done them more harm than good, in cases where control is lost. While our kind were struggling for our very survival, Muggle history is quite different. See, Muggles built grand Empires, they held wars which would make most of our known history of casualties in the Wizarding World seem miniscule. They enslaved their own, and powerful tyrants attempted to control as far as their reach could extend. Faith in powers which they could not comprehend or understand was used to control the masses, and claim mass slaughtering of those which they found less righteous.” 

Draco gasped at the last bit. He had never heard Muggle history to the extent which the man described it. Yet what was described to him was horrifying. If there was one thing Draco had learnt about Muggles as he had read and researched over the past two years was that they existed in terrifying numbers. Like the Professor stated, it was hard to imagine just how much damage could have been done to Muggles through history by their own. The old wizard’s words made him itch for answers, to know more of these events the man was speaking of. 

Dumbledore seemed ever so slightly amused at the boy’s reactions. “Knowing all this, it seems the most likely that Salazar Slytherin was opposed to having children exposed to and partaking in Muggle culture at Hogwarts, fearing what they would do with such a powerful force as magic. In the eyes of the man, and indeed in recorded history, little has stopped Muggles in power from hungering for more. Slytherin did not feel inclined to give them such opportunities.”  
  
“It seems the other three founders were more trusting than the man, and disagreement broke out within the group. There has indeed been written evidence found seemingly belonging to Slytherin himself, claiming the Chamber of Secrets to be a last countermeasure against the world around the school, were the Muggles to invade and hurt the mages there. It was likely that the Heir of Slytherin wasn’t meant to return to us as late as in these days, but that the man expected his continued lineage to protect the mages from the, according to the man, power hungry Muggles which would exploit their weaknesses and seek to destroy them.”  
  
If the previous information had been hard to swallow, Draco did not know quite what to do with himself after such an outrageous story. In his lap, Missy stirred, starting to crawl up one of his arms. Draco had to put the by then empty cup aside and support her from a better angle. Slowly but surely the snake made her way up to a comfortable position atop of his shoulders. Once she had found a good place where she could reach up to smell the boy’s face with her soft tongue, his cheeks were wet with tears.  
  
The boy found himself in a strange place in between betrayal and relief, and averted his eyes from the man. “If-... if that would be the truth then… then why are people claiming that he wanted to murder Muggle-borns? Why aren’t we-... why aren’t we taught the truth?”  
  
To his questions, the boy was met with a kind yet pained expression as the man leaned forward again, shaking his head in what seemed to be disappointment. “I believe Mr. Malfoy to be well aware of the opposition such an idea would have in our current society. Understanding Slytherin’s pain and fear would be to understand the terrifying power and threat which Muggles have proven to be, both to one another and to mages throughout history. It would mean to acknowledge their power, inventive minds and skills. It would mean acknowledging that they can be a threat and ahead of us, on good and bad. Indeed it seems to be a fault both Muggles and mages share in how we record our history, that we record it based on our current values and ideas. The Wizarding World has been unified and powerful for but few centuries, yet most of us today imagine it to always have been that way.”  
  
The tissue box from earlier appeared next to the boy, where Draco grabbed a tissue to dry his eyes with. “Then… does that mean, I mean… does that mean a lot of history is faulty?” The boy didn’t mean to scowl and sound aggressive, but it didn’t seem like his Headmaster minded.  
  
Professor Dumbledore gave the boy a look, then gave a serious nod. “I’m afraid it would be so. In regards to how we record our history, mages and Muggles do not differ very much. Sometimes people are even willing to disregard direct historical evidence, and facts, as I am certain you are well aware.”  
  
Draco nodded, thinking back to the lack of evidence for the superiority of blood. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood ever so slightly, the Professor continued speaking. “Why I believe somebody would have to step in and revise the history we know of Hogwarts altogether. Perhaps then people would learn of Salazar Slytherin’s plight. First and foremost, somebody needs to put a correct date of the founding of Hogwarts. Considering magic of the time, and the architecture and resources within this country, Hogwarts could not have been built until several centuries after the claimed date. It’s a pity our founders didn’t leave a date for us to go by.” At this Professor Dumbledore chuckled rather heartily, as if it was a silly joke rather than such a wide misconception. “Why neither mages, nor Muggles had figured out any architecture such as the one of this school, at the given dates within history. While I’m rather certain many wizards and witches would claim magic to have played a part in the creation of the school, it’s rather impossible to imagine them somehow knowing exactly how castles would look a few centuries later, rather than building something of their own at the time.” 

Once again Draco made a face, but the discussion helped him regain a bit of composure, after such a shocking reveal as that of the purpose of the Chamber of Secrets. “But-... if Hogwarts wasn’t founded until later-... does that mean Merlin never attended?”  
  
The boy had tried to comfort himself through the year by thinking of Merlin as evidence that Slytherins did not have to be dark wizards or evil. Of course, if all of which the old wizard was claiming was true, then the founder of Slytherin himself had been a good man misinterpreted by people. Draco wanted it to be true. Yet, after the past year, it was hard trusting anyone.  
  
Once more, the Headmaster’s smile widened. “Why I’m rather certain Merlin never existed. See, Muggles have tried to prove the existence of King Arthur and his Round Table for quite some centuries, and they’ve had quite the head start of us. Yet most historical evidence seems to claim King Arthur, Merlin and the tales which follow with them to have been fictional tales to raise the morale during the current civil wars within what was later to become Britain. Even I would think Merlin’s achievements and circumstances are a little disproportionate, seeing how very long it has taken for our society to find good systems to control magic. I assume people think he was a Slytherin student due to his works of manipulation and advice for the fabled king.”  
  
Draco looked as if he had bit down on a very sour lemon candy for a few moments. The expression changed to that of an offended one, until it finally settled upon the boy sighing, looking drained and betrayed by the world around him. “Forgive me for doubting, Professor, but how am I to know that all which you have told me in this passing conversation is true?”  
  
The boy’s gaze met with that of the old wizard, as Draco seemed too desperate for answers to shy away from those eyes which seemed to hold far too much knowledge and far too many secrets.  
  
“Because the evidence is out there for you to find. If one is willing to dig deeper into a matter with an open mind and heart, and to fully examine the circumstances of a matter, one will eventually find what is the most likely to be true. Of course, the truth might be complex and much more unclear than that of which history makes it out to be. This is going to be easier for you as you grow older and access the information which an adult can obtain and research, would it interest you. I’ll make certain Severus is kind enough to provide you with some of the evidence for what I have stated.” The old man stopped to give him a mischievous smile before he continued. “Not that you need me to tell you, you have already begun your journey in searching for hidden truths. Why, I do believe you had some convictions by the beginning of this school year which you no longer possess.” Draco blushed at the last claim, avoiding the man’s eyes altogether.  
  
Said man got up on his feet, readjusted his robes a little, and smiled towards the child yet again. “I think that concludes our discussion, Mr. Malfoy.” He walked around his desk and seemed intent on showing the boy out the door. However before he opened it, he spoke once more. “Young man, there are no such matters as good and evil in this world. We live in a frightening and complex world where the line between truth and deceit often blurs. Whichever path you choose in life, you are in charge of said path. Being a Slytherin, or indeed your father’s son, will not decide who you are, for only you can decide who you are going to be.” 

Draco swallowed, trying very hard to not cry once more as he left the Headmaster’s office, seeing the world anew, in manners which he could never have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- History Note ---  
> 'Tyrant' is a word which has changed meaning through the ages. Originally the word referred to all-powerful rulers who stood above law and society. It should not be surprising that the word has later come to mean evil ruler, as great power is often abused. 
> 
> In this context, Dumbledore is referring to rulers dating back as far as Ancient Greece and beyond, meaning that tyrant refers to rulers with absolute power, as they were called tyrants, rather than just every single one of them being evil.


	23. Chapter 22 - In which Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry returns to normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “P-please, I had no idea where the Chamber was. But, uh… I do have some questions for you, if that is alright?” She looked from face to face as the boys nodded, preparing themselves for another retelling of everything. “Was Professor Lockhart really… a fraud?” Her voice was weak and uncertain, her eyes filled with fear as she questioned what had happened with the author. 

“Good morning, students. I understand that it must be quite confusing for all of you to see me return so very soon, yet none is more surprised than I.” Albus Dumbledore was yet again standing behind the podium in the Great Hall. Behind him sat a row of teachers at their table, very much the same staff with the exception that Lockhart was gone, replaced by Remus Lupin. Remus didn’t look out of place by the table, but as he was there instead of the famous author with the award winning smile, he stood out quite a lot. 

“I have returned to you with very pleasant news. I believe I should start by addressing that I was reinstated by the Board of Governors, almost as soon as I tried to leave the school. Although I can not share the confidentiality behind their reasonings, it seems that I have been urged to return and remain.” As he spoke, the students began applauding, some even cheering loudly. 

While Harry didn’t have absolute faith in the man, he was very glad to have him back, especially since his dad was going to become a teacher at Hogwarts next term. The last thing Remus needed was to be fired before he began due to a new Headmaster’s prejudice against werewolves. Thus, Harry joined in with the applause, as did most people by the Slytherin table. Most were not quite as enthusiastic as the Gryffindor table, but then again, could any other House beat them when it came to excitement? 

“First, it is my great pleasure to announce that the Chamber of Secrets has been found.” The Headmaster continued. A murmur passed through the hall, it was clear that the students were not convinced if it was a good thing or not. “Thanks to the Aurors sent by the Ministry, the Chamber was finally located. The monster resting within has been dealt with, it shall no longer trouble any students of Hogwarts ever again.” After stating that the monster was dealt with, the students seemed far more eager to applaud happily.

Professor Snape had already spoken to Harry, Malfoy and Neville about the story which would be used to cover up their discovery of the Chamber of Secrets. Thus, all three twelve year olds were prepared for the Headmaster’s words. Some people might find it upsetting that they were not given the rightful credit for their discovery, but Harry, Malfoy and Neville were more than satisfied to not share the spotlight. Harry wanted nothing to do with more fame, Malfoy wanted nothing to do with the title of Heir of Slytherin, and Neville was not keen on becoming an example of reckless behaviours for his House to misguidedly follow. Their closest Slytherin friends knew the truth, as they had been informed by the boys themselves. The rest of the world didn’t matter. 

“The missing victim was found and saved. They are currently resting and should not be bothered or disturbed. For the sake of their recovery, I ask that even those of you who know the identity of this person to remain silent and allow them to keep their dignity. You must have many questions, but to hound the victim with them will only hurt them more, as well as complicate recovery. I ask you to be respectful, understanding, and place the needs of the wounded above those of your own.” The old wizard paused to look the students over with a stern look. 

“On that topic, I beg you to show the same respect towards the victims of petrification as they return to consciousness. The mandragora are well on their way to become harvested and the potion shall be made shortly. After this, there will be a recovery period for the victims. Those who were recently petrified will have a far easier time to return to their normal state of being, but the recovery period will be quite harsh for the earlier victims.” Dumbledore continued. “I shall not trouble you with the details, but for the knowledge of those of you who are not too versed with magic: know that the body is far too complex to simply recover by means of a single potion.”

“I hope Hermione will come back soon, without too much trouble.” Neville leaned over to whisper to Harry. He had come to sit by the Slytherin table once again, as he didn’t feel like he had any friends who he was comfortable with by his own table. This time, far less people had tried to object to his presence. 

“Some recovery will be needed, but I think she is in a much better position than Creevey.” Harry whispered back. 

“Now, to address some very surprising revelations which were revealed yesterday.” Professor Dumbledore continued. Harry could almost see the mischievousness in the old man’s eyes as he switched topics. The boy licked his lips, trying not to be too amused over what was about to come. “Professor Gilderoy Lockhart has been arrested by the Ministry on charge of misuse of magic. He is suspected to have used the Memory Charm on a number of mages to claim credit for their heroic deeds, which he passed off as his own.”

The reaction to his words was messy. Some students hollered with laughter and amusement, others booed loudly. Some objected and protested while others became very quiet. Of all the things Professor Dumbledore has ever said in the Great Hall, the reaction from the students to Lockhart’s arrest was likely the most chaotic. 

When the student body was finally brought back under control, the Headmaster spoke anew. “Whatever the verdict he receives, it has nothing to do with Hogwarts. Your education will continue, and so, it is my great pleasure to welcome your next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher a few months earlier than planned. Thank you for your swift response to our school’s needs, Professor Remus Lupin.” The old wizard turned towards the table, showing towards the werewolf. 

Remus stood up as the applause rose from the tables. It was not an overly enthusiastic one, but Harry and his friends applauded with all their might. The people who were relieved to be rid of Lockhart joined in with enthusiasm, while many others refused to applaud or only applauded half-heartedly. Remus bowed, his smile a little false but nonetheless pleasant before he sat down. Harry saw how McGonagall nodded at him approvingly. 

“The school, professors and the Hogwarts Board of Governors will work hard to ensure that you all get the best chance you can to complete your education after all the tumult which you have endured this year. Extra assignments and classes will be offered during the summer for those who need the assistance to move onto next year. There is no shame in asking for help. If you have questions or concerns for your education or your mental health, speak to the Head of your House or a trusted teacher and you shall be assisted to the best of our ability. I shall call in extra counselors and guidance teachers with the help of the Board of Governors.” The old wizard informed the school. “Today, classes will resume as normal, yet all teachers are aware of the likely discourse in your minds and shall be mindful of your recovery.” 

The Headmaster was finally able to conclude his speech and allow everyone to eat breakfast. The kitchen had worked very hard throughout the night to ensure quite the magnificent breakfast for the mentally exhausted students. 

The rest of that day was slow. The teachers didn’t seem to care too much that Neville stayed with the group of Slytherins who were his friends, allowing him to attend lessons with them rather than his House. He wasn’t the only one who needed friends rather than his House that week, thus the Professors did their best to note down what students had simply attended rather than counting them like they normally would. 

Remus Lupin took over the classes which Lockhart should have held. Luckily for him, the man had been very methodical and had written everything he had taught down in detailed notebooks which he kept under his desk, one for each year. It was very easy for him to continue where the fraud had left off, as he was mostly repeating information and accepting questions to help the students towards their exams. 

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor made one thing very clear to every class he taught, that being that no questions were bad questions. He made no small effort in explaining that he was there to teach them, not to withhold information. There would be no House points removed for faulty answers or strange questions. While Remus’ teaching was somewhat different from what the students were used to, they adapted well to his methods. It seemed to be exactly what they needed when they were in no state to care about House points or false competitions. 

Most people were a little too busy with themselves, their education and their mental health, thus nobody really noticed that Harry and Remus shared the same surname. The people in Harry’s year knew, but only the Slytherin students who he was friends with bothered to comment. Even then, most comments were positive. 

The mandrakes became ready for harvest and thus the restorative potion was brewed. The people who had been petrified by Secrets the basilisk were slowly able to be woken up. Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater responded the best to the treatment, and were revived with minor complications. 

A day after her waking up, Harry, Malfoy and Neville were collected by Professor McGonagall, who told them that their friend was ready to meet them. On the way, they stopped to collect the lot of the Weasley family, thus adding Left and Right Weasley, the girl Weasley and the Prefect Weasley to their entourage. Most of them were allowed to simply enter the hospital ward with the promise that they would be quiet and respectful, but the twins were stopped and searched for any items which might be used to cause loud noises, bad smells, or otherwise disturb the patients. 

Prefect Weasley made his way to the Ravenclaw Prefect’s bed, hurrying inside the dividers to speak with her. It did not take long until his thankful sobs could be heard from the cubicle where she rested, alongside her comforting voice trying to sooth him. 

The girl Weasley was left alone to visit her brother, as her siblings had been caught up by other engagements. Left and Right Weasley would likely join her as soon as all prank items, which they always seemed to be storing on themselves, had been confiscated. She seemed a little nervous as she trotted over to Ron Weasley’s bed, hidden away in the far end of the room to keep him from his victims. Not that he was necessarily deemed to be a danger, but for the sake of the comfort of everyone involved, they were kept somewhat apart. 

Neville led them all to Hermione’s cubicle, finding her reading a book in her bed. She looked healthy enough, her face somewhat drained of color and her eyes dim, yet she seemed happy enough to see them.

Neville looked upon the girl in the bed, she was alive, breathing, mobile, sentient, everything which his parents were not. He looked upon her and as her face formed into a smile as she recognised him, his eyes filled with tears and he hurried over to embrace her tightly. She hugged him back, the two best friends clinging to one another as relief and emotions overwhelmed them. 

Harry felt himself tear up slightly as he saw them. He was well aware of the relationship which Neville had with his mentally broken parents, he could see just how much it meant to the boy to have his friend return to being sentient. Next to Harry, Malfoy was fighting to not tear up as well. Malfoy bit his lip, swallowing, and waited for Neville to finish hugging his best friend. 

When he did pull back, Harry stepped in to hug her. She smelled strangely of the abnormal cleanness which hospitals often smelled of, her scents no longer her own but those of the place she had been confined in. “Welcome back.” Harry whispered before stepping back. 

Next was Malfoy, who looked hesitant to approach her. She looked back with equal hesitation. Then the former pureblood supremacist stepped forward and embraced her tightly. Harry could see the surprise in her eyes which swiftly transformed into affection. She hugged him back, the Muggle-born witch and the Pureblood wizard sealing their friendship. “I’m so sorry that this happened to you.” Malfoy mumbled before retreating. 

“It’s not your fault.” She assured him with a smile. “Professor Dumbledore came to talk to me, he has told me everything. I’m so proud of all of you for figuring out where the Chamber of Secrets was.” 

“We would never have figured out the monster if you hadn’t let us that immensely helpful clue in the book.” Neville pointed out, causing both other boys to nod. “Thank you, Hermione.” 

“Truly, thank you.” Harry continued, causing the girl to blush deeply as she tried to wave the compliments away. 

“P-please, I had no idea where the Chamber was. But, uh… I do have some questions for you, if that is alright?” She looked from face to face as the boys nodded, preparing themselves for another retelling of everything. “Was Professor Lockhart really… a fraud?” Her voice was weak and uncertain, her eyes filled with fear as she questioned what had happened with the author. 

Harry answered her, explaining that the man had used the strictly regulated Memory Charm to claim the deeds and glory of a variety of mages, which he later wrote books about. He continued to speak of the inconsistencies which he had personally noticed between other werewolf literature and _Wanderings with Werewolves_ , as well as the flaws in vampiric behavior which had been displayed in _Voyages with Vampires_. As they all knew that Harry had an active interest in both topics, they believed in his analysis. Malfoy had heard the same lecture all year, leading him to mostly nod as his friend spoke. 

“In conclusion, his claim that there is such a spell to transform a werewolf back from their other shape is blatantly false. If it was true, the people affected by the condition wouldn’t have to suffer the way they do.” Harry summarised. 

Hermione nodded at his words, but appeared slightly depressed by them. “I… Feel like a fool for believing in him.” She confessed in a subtle voice, avoiding to look at any of them. “Magic is just so… powerful, unlimited. I believed that someone as celebrated as Lockhart was telling the truth in his books. How could something so blatantly false be so commonly consumed, even put at the course literature list?” She raised her shoulders as if to defend herself from the world, her fingers nervously toying with the blanket as she spoke about being fooled. “I read what he said and it just seemed so very possible with magic. I know I wasn’t the only one who was tricked but I feel like I should have known better.” 

“It is not your fault.” To everyone’s surprise, Malfoy spoke up with such force and determination that he almost shouted. Upon realising that his reaction had been rather forceful, he straightened up and collected himself. “I have recently come to realise that there are so many things I don’t know as well. I’ve always lived separately from Muggles, I understand now that I could just as easily have been misinformed about something which you would be able to classify as false. I want to make a proposal. From now on, I want to be able to ask you anything about the Muggle world. In turn, I will provide answers for any and all questions which you may have about the Wizarding World. I understand that Lupin and Longbottom can provide answers as well, yet I am more educated in both politics and the structure of our society.” There was a determination in Malfoy’s eyes which none of the other children quite understood at the time.

Both Harry and Neville glanced at one another, exchanging understanding that neither of them knew much or cared about the structure of the society they lived in. Harry only cared when it came to misconceptions and discrimination which affected him and his father personally, he didn't know all that much about other things. 

The Gryffindor student hesitated before she nodded once, then with more certainty and excitement. “Y-yes. I would like that a lot.” 

“I can tell you about Herbology as always.” Neville chuckled nervously, grinning at her. “That’s the one thing I can always help with.” 

“My best subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Harry continued. “And being the voice of reason, I guess?” He shrugged. “I guess neither of us are all that good with Muggle… anything. So anything you want to tell us, think we should know, and so on would probably be really helpful in the future.” 

“Really?” She moved her hands over her mouth, her big eyes shining up at them with disbelief and hope. “You won’t think it’s annoying or… useless?” 

“Do you think it’s useful to know all the names of every Quidditch ball and player position?” Harry asked her, causing his best friend to huff at him. She glanced at Malfoy before slowly shaking his head. “It so happens to be very important to Malfoy, because he has an interest in the game. You cannot measure what is useless and what isn’t based on a universal mold of importance. Some things are objectively good to know, but there is no such thing as always useful or always useless information.” 

“Voice of reason, there we go.” Neville laughed. Malfoy no longer seemed offended when Harry had finished making his point. Hermione giggled as well. 

“I accept your deal, Malfoy.” She looked up at him, smiling. The blonde wizard looked relieved in return, weakly returning her smile with one of his own. “Now then… I have some more questions. First of all…” She proceeded to ask them about everything in regards to the Chamber of Secrets. 

Their conversation was a hushed one, whispered to one another as to not disturb the rest of the ward, or reveal too much to people who didn’t need to know all the details. They didn’t manage to tell her everything that day, as she fell asleep part way through the conversation. Despite her mind wanting to know all that it could, she was not yet recovered and her body could only handle so much before it shut back down. There was no need to worry though, she was simply sleeping.

The group ended up leaving at the same time as the Weasley family. Well outside the ward, Prefect Weasley turned to the three of them, asking if they may have some of their time. Malfoy looked uncertain about the request, but Harry agreed on the terms that their discussion take place in an open space where nobody would be able to listen in on them. The family agreed, leading to all of them walking outside to the courtyard, where they found a pleasant spot to talk. This spot being a pair of benches which stood close enough for them to be able to speak without having to shout. The benches were located a little away from the courtyard and rested in shadow, protecting the speakers from the bright sunlight.

“Well… before anything else, we want to express our deepest gratitude for you saving our brother.” Prefect Weasley lowered his head, thanking them by bowing. Next to him, his little sister did the same. The wind caught both their hair, making it sway as they moved. 

“It didn’t seem like he deserved it.” Right Weasley joked. The two of them were standing behind the bench, having elected not to sit.

“Yeah, attacking people like that.” Left continued, shaking his head in a dramatic fashion which made his words come of as disingenuous. 

“But he is our knuckleheaded brother.” Right picked up where his brother left. 

“And we are thankful that you saved his dumb butt.” The other continued. 

Their sister looked up at her two older brothers, her young face turning into a scowl. “Talk like that is what made him so easily tricked in the first place.” She said. “If you had been nicer, he might not have turned out like this.” 

Her words and insight effectively caused her to no longer seem so uncomfortable in Harry’s eyes anymore. Maybe she really was more than just a blind follower of celebrities. 

Left and Right exchanged looks, the shock and surprise on their faces seemed far too theatrical to be in earnest. Prefect Weasley nodded slowly at his sister’s words, agreeing with her analysis. 

“She is right. Although it is painful to say, and I haven’t quite forgiven him for attacking Penny, it only stands to reason that blame should be put on the people who pushed to make him like this in the first place.” The older teenager took a deep breath. “The revelation of my brother’s feelings have motivated me to reflect more on myself. I seek to be an inspiration to others, yet I pushed my own brother into despair by my lack of compassion. I will devote myself to be a better man and a better Prefect in the future.” 

Harry felt like he should be applauding after that speech, but he had a feeling that doing so might be rude. “We are glad we could help…?” He didn’t mean to make it sound like a question, but it came out that way. 

“We most certainly support your decision in bettering yourself, and would hope that your brothers would do the same.” Malfoy took over, speaking in a formal manner while casting a judging glance at Left and Right Weasley. 

“We’ll never let him forget that a Malfoy was a better person than him.” Left giggled, proving to everyone present that there likely was no reasoning with their wicked minds. 

“He’ll get over it. The feud is stupid either way.” Right shrugged. “We’ll make him get over it sooner or later.” 

“Just leave him alone instead.” Neville muttered, to which the girl Weasley nodded agreeingly. 

“Yeah, leave him alone.” She concurred but the mad twins just giggled and began walking off, leaving brother and sister with Harry and his friends. They deemed their part of the conversation completed, finding no reason to remain for the sake of pleasantries. 

“I apologise.” Prefect Weasley sighed. “Nobody can control those two, they are like that despite the best of my efforts.” The expression on his face made it very clear that he had tried. He looked both tired and dissatisfied with his own lack of results. 

“Yeah, they are not kind, but they don’t mean to harm. Or so mom says.” His sister explained. She didn’t seem to quite understand and was just repeating what she had often heard. 

“Pleasant family members.” Malfoy’s mouth had become a thin, displeased line but he didn’t sound like he was outright mocking them.

“How is your brother?” Harry switched subjects, carefully asking about Ron Weasley instead of letting the conversation remain on Left and Right. 

“He is recovering. He was suffering from slight blood loss when he arrived at the hospital wing and his body had internal damage from being the center of ritual magic. It might be too complicated for you to comprehend, but the overflow of magic from the ritual damaged his nerves. They are not broken, but they need time to heal, and exercise to restore himself to his natural state.” The Prefect explained, seeming happy to return to concrete, factual information rather than speak of morals which he couldn’t change. 

Harry nodded, his nerves had to grow back after his bone had been removed from his arm, leading to him feeling like he understood what the boy was going through, at least a little. “I hope he recovers soon.” 

The girl’s cheeks turned red, matching her hair. “You’re so kind, despite everything.” She mumbled. “All of you are. Such good people.” Harry tried very hard to not think of Dobby, he did not want to be reminded of that miserable creature. At the very least, her adoration seemed to have extended to more people than just him, making it so that he did not have to fear facing her affection alone. 

“Either way, I will urge that our mother and father reevaluate themselves as well, so that our family might become stronger after this, rather than allow the blame to fall on Ron. With that being said, I believe we should move on.” The teenager stood up, looking at his sister. “We have taken up enough of your time already.” 

She looked disappointed but followed her brother’s suggestion. “Take care.” She tried to speak a little louder but it came out as another mumble. She glanced at the three boys from under her bangs, then blushed and hurriedly turned away. 

Harry, Malfoy and Neville were left alone on the bench, watching the two siblings walk off. Prefect Weasly tried to hold the girl’s hand, but she waved him away, seemingly wanting nothing to do with being seen as a child to those around her. 

“I still don’t like the Weasleys.” Malfoy stated out loud, crossing his arms over his chest. “I no longer feel hatred towards them in the same way I did before, now they simply… baffle me in terms of their behaviors and actions.” 

“Malfoy, it’s alright to not like Fred and George Weasley.” Neville corrected him, calling the boy out on what he actually wanted to say. “If we are to measure faults, nobody is innocent.” 

“I did not me-” Malfoy objected but then groaned. “Fine. Fine, you are correct. They make me highly uncomfortable. As does the little girl from the way she looks at Lupin.” 

“Oh, she was looking at all of us this time.” Harry grinned at his friends as they both stared at him in disbelief. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head atop of his hands, feeling rather pleased with not being alone in this hero worship any more. “It seems she had become a fan of more than just me.” 

Neville’s face had slowly turned redder. “M-me too? But I was only staying with Lockhart and calling up a pipe to a ghost.” 

“You and that Muggle healing is probably to thank for Lockhart being alive at all.” Harry pointed out. “It seems that the hit to his head was rather serious, he was taken to St. Mungos Hospital to recover, as trial isn’t even possible with the state he is in now. Still… They will probably condemn him either way, even if he isn’t present.” Harry felt an uncomfortable taste spread in his mouth as he talked about the Wizarding World's very lacking judicial system.

“We must have Granger teach us all Muggle healing.” Malfoy stated forcefully. Both Harry and Neville nodded at his words. 

They sat quiet for a while before Malfoy once more spoke up in an effort to escape the thoughts which bounced around their respective minds. “Quidditch is cancelled for the rest of the year, so the arena should be empty. How about we go there and shoot some hoops?” He looked over at his two present friends. 

“I am so not getting on a broom.” Harry shook his head, lifting his hands up. “But I’ll cheer for you if you’d like.” 

Malfoy turned to Neville, who looked both uncertain and ashamed. “I’m not very good at that, besides, aren’t you a Seeker? Would you just set the Snitch loose and have us chase it?” 

“No, I said shoot some hoops. You be will the Keeper and I will be the Chaser.” Malfoy jumped a little closer to Neville, if he was trying to intimidate or encourage Neville was unclear. “Or we can do it the other way around and you can be the Chaser while I play Keeper.” 

“Uhn…” Neville hesitated still. “I don’t have a broom.” 

“I will let you borrow one from the Slytherin team.” He was quickly countered. 

“Oh fine! I’ll play with you.” The Gryffindor gave in. “But I’m not good at it, so don’t expect anything special from me, alright?” 

Malfoy’s entire face lit up. He got to his feet and hurriedly pulled Neville along for them to get ready for a play-game of their own. He was clearly beyond excited to get to fly once more, and equally excited to have someone to fly with him. Harry followed his two friends with a smile on his face. He wasn’t even worried about Neville falling off his broom, he had a feeling that playing with Malfoy might help the boy’s confidence grow a lot, perhaps even to the point of making him a semi confident flier.


	24. Chapter 23 - In which the true Heir of Slytherin confesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is something I should probably mention.” Harry spoke up, causing everyone gathered to look at him, including his dad who was called back to consciousness from his words. 

“I don’t know about you, but I for one am ready for summer break.” Crabbe loudly exclaimed as he took his seat by the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. All around them, people were gathering for the final feast. The exams had been stressful but a lot of focus had been placed on making them less so. Harry wasn’t sure that he had made it in all subjects, but he had decided that he would deal with it during the summer rather than worry about it now. 

“I wanna sleep for a day, maybe three.” Goyle sighed, a dreaming look forming in his eyes. 

“I wanna sleep for a month.” Nott exclaimed. “Are we having Gryffies by our table today? Are they allowed to be here during the final evening?” He looked around to try and spot Hermione and Neville. 

“I hope so.” Blaise nodded at his friend’s words. “It’s very interesting to speak with Granger, not that you aren’t interesting to talk to, but…” He shrugged as Parkison rolled her eyes at nobody in particular. “Is she fully restored now?”

“She can walk around just fine but there seem to be some muscles and nerves which are hurting still. She will likely be completely fine after the summer break if she keeps on moving.” Malfoy summarised, pushing some silverware to the side so that he could rest his arms on the table. 

“I invited them to sit with us, we’ll see what happens.” Harry smiled, keeping his eyes on the door as he waited for them. 

Soon enough, the two Gryffindors arrived, hesitantly joining them by the Slytherin table. People seemed about to object but then thought better of it and simply surrendered to the reality that they couldn’t actually stop the children from sitting by whatever table they wanted. 

Professor Dumbledore began the feast with yet another speech. He had held so many of them this year that everyone had reached a point where they mostly wanted him to stop talking. The old man knew that and thus kept himself short. He announced that Ravenclaw had won the House cup once again, followed by Hufflepuff, Slytherin next and Gryffindor in the final spot. The hall became decorated in blue and bronze, just as it had been last year. The Hufflepuff students were very excited to have come second, while the Slytherin students wondered when they had fallen behind. Harry and Malfoy both stared into their plates, pretending to not have lost fifty points each a month ago. It was also announced that the Quidditch cup had ended in a draw between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, which everyone were at least a little bit excited about. The Slytherins were excited to technically have placed first despite losing the team captain for most of the year, and the other Houses were excited that another team had won too, for once. 

The feast began, opening up for a very pleasant evening of good food and good company on Harry’s part. He and his friends had a lot of fun, talking, joking, laughing and celebrating. When he glanced at the Gryffindor table, Harry was satisfied to see that Ron Weasley was celebrating with his family. He even seemed to be having fun, which some might not think that he deserved, but Harry thought that the boy desperately needed it. 

Over by the teacher’s table, Remus was sitting next to Professor McGonagall on one side and Hagrid on the other. The man had been released from Azkaban and returned as the school’s gamekeeper. Harry hadn’t gotten to know the details but he had been informed by Crabbe and Goyle that the man was shaken from Azkaban but was recovering well as he seemed to have a new pet project. The son of a werewolf was rather sure that he knew that pet project to be Secrets and feeding her. 

All in all, it was a great evening for Harry and his friends. Despite Parkinson’s earlier anger and jealousy towards Hermione, she was behaving well that evening, keeping her prejudice and negative thoughts to herself. Nott was loud and excited, his energy spreading to the rest of the group as he laughed and joked. Blaise spoke mostly to Hermione, who was happy to speak with him in return. They quickly became engaged in a conversation which was fascinating to them, but boring to anyone who tried to listen without partaking. Goyle challenged Neville to a tiny pancake eating contest, which he did win, but not without a fight from Neville. Crabbe also found that he enjoyed talking to Neville, which made for a busy evening for the almost-Squib. 

Malfoy had recently gotten to know that his father had lost his position as a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. He wasn’t pretending to not be upset or sad about it, but also tried to be reasonable in his grief. Lucius Malfoy being fired didn’t come with any financial repercussions for the family, although it did come with some political side effects. This evening of fun, laughter and cheerful friendship was just what he needed to be allowed to forget for the moment. 

When Harry fell asleep that night, surrounded by friends in his dormitory, knowing that his dad was somewhere in the building as well, he thought to himself that he was truly lucky to be alive. He was very happy that the school hadn’t been shut down, and that all his friends were safe. He closed his eyes and drifted off, imagining what excitement and happiness his next year would bring him. 

“I really do think that I should leave this seat for one of your friends, rather than keep it for myself. I can sit somewhere else.” Remus carefully argued with his son when he realised how full their compartment was becoming upon Harry’s friends trying to fit in it. The train was already filling up and the man was a little awkward to be alone with the students, especially when he felt like he was keeping his son from his friends in keeping a seat. 

“It is fine, dad. Besides, you will sleep most of the way so I rather not lose you when we are supposed to get off.” Harry countered, looking up at his dad who licked his lips and glanced to the side. 

“I suppose that is right. Fine, I will stay.” He sighed, leaning back in the seat. 

“Great.” His son grinned back at him. 

Their compartment did fill up indeed with Malfoy and Goyle joining them, as well as Neville and Hermione. Blaise, Nott, Crabbe and Parkinson found a compartment on their own as Nott wanted to sit with Blaise and Crabbe didn’t want his friend to feel alone or rejected. 

The train began to move, leaving the station, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts behind. Harry glanced out the window, watching the old castle as it disappeared behind high trees. He sighed and turned back to his friends, watching as Malfoy pulled a chocolate frog card from the pile before him, only to try and describe the mage on the card to Goyle and Neville. If any boy could guess what mage was on the card, he would get it, otherwise, it went back into the pile. The goal of the game was to have the most cards in the end. Next to him, Hermione looked up from her book and smiled before returning to it. On his other side, his dad had already begun snoozing. 

“There is something I should probably mention.” Harry spoke up, causing everyone gathered to look at him, including his dad who was called back to consciousness from his words. 

“What is it?” Hermione closed her book, looking nervous and serious as she met his eyes. 

“Well… According to Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk, I have been recognised as the Heir of Slytherin.” He hadn’t found a good time and place to bring it up until now, thus reasoning that it was better for him to do it now before he completely forgot about it. 

The people around him stared at him with various expressions, reflecting shock, surprise, disbelief and confusion. All the son of a werewolf did in return was smile at them, before he was assaulted with questions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, we hope you enjoy this version of the second Harry Potter book! 
> 
> ♡ If you read this far and enjoyed this work, please consider leaving kudos. ♡
> 
> The third book work has begun, but as University studies and work is starting again, we might not be able to finish it as quickly as these, especially as this one has become a good part much longer than Rowling's original book. 
> 
> Next book title: Harry Lupin Potter and the Scars of the Past


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